Los Enemigos
by sirocco.flow
Summary: -Moved to this account from co-author LilyStarbuck's- An XFiles Pirates of the Caribbean Crossover :D While investigating missing persons reports in Haiti, Mulder and Scully are transported back in time to Tortuga. When Mulder is pressganged onto a ship, can Scully and Jack save him?
1. Chapter 1

Hey folks!

Some of you may recognise this story as one posted by Lily-Starbuck, co-authored with me. To cut the crap, she's having issues getting onto her account because of a dodgy internet connection, and the password I used to use to hack into her account for posting purposes is no longer working. So here it is, in all its glory, on my account instead! I'm gonna post everything that's already up on her account, plus some new stuff :D

New readers, welcome to the silliness!

Old readers, welcome back, we've missed you! If you're still out there, please let us know by hitting the review button (even if it's just to scold us for abandoning you for so long).

Disclaimer: We don't own PotC or the X-Files, which is a shame.

Enjoy!

***

Special Agent Dana Scully was wrenched from the peaceful world of slumber by the loud chirping of her cell phone on the night stand next to the bed. Her gut instinct, knowing full well who the caller would be, was to roll over and ignore it. But knowing the persistence of her partner, and the likelihood of him trying the landline if she ignored her cell, she reached out with a reluctant groan and pulled the receiver to her ear.

"What do you want Mulder?"

"Well good morning to you too Scully."

"Morning? Mulder it's 3:00am. That barely qualifies as morning!" She sighed. "Why do you always find some excuse to call me in the middle of the night?"

"Would you believe it was because I missed the sound of your voice?" She could hear him grinning and it almost made her smile. But not quite.

"Not a chance. Now if you haven't got a damned good reason for waking me up in the middle of the night, yet again, I'll kick your ass later at work."

"Actually it's good news. Skinner called me earlier. He's giving us a case that's going to take us to the Caribbean for an unspecified period of time."

Scully's eyebrow automatically shot up and her eyes opened for the first time since answering the phone.

"You're kidding me right?"

"Nope. It'll be a lovely vacation Scully, just what you need. A nice little trip to the beach."

Scully's eyebrow rose further, this time through skepticism as opposed to surprise.

"What, just like that nice little trip to the forest you took me on, which ended in us being cocooned alive by brain sucking amoeba?"

"To be fair Scully, they weren't brain sucking amoeba. They only drained your fluid."

"Well, whatever they were, they still left me in quarantine for four weeks, so you'll forgive my lack of enthusiasm."

"You don't need to be enthusiastic; you just need to be at Skinner's office for 9:00am with your suitcase, ready for our briefing."

"9:00am? You mean this could've waiting until 6:00am, when I would've already been up?" There was a loud pause. "Mulder I am so gonna kill you!"

Mulder simply chuckled.

"Kill me now baby and you'll never see me in my Speedos."

The next sound he heard was the dial tone.

*

By 9:00am Agents Mulder and Scully were sat outside the office of Assistant Director Walter Skinner, waiting for his secretary to give them permission to go inside. Mulder, impatient as always and for some reason more excitable than usual, was drumming his fingers against his knee, pausing every now and then to glance down at his watch. When his leg started jumping in time with the drumming Scully could stand it no longer. She placed one hand over his drumming fingers, stilling both them and his leg. She shot him a look that bode no arguing, and then removed her hand. It took him about five seconds to resume the drumming, with the left hand this time so Scully couldn't reach. With an exasperated sigh, knowing full well that Kimberly was probably watching this scene between Mr. and Mrs. Spooky with growing interest, she lent across Mulder, grabbing both his hands and placing them firmly in his lap.

"I'll handcuff you to the couch in a minute if you don't keep still," she said in a terse whisper.

"Fine by me, but shouldn't we get rid of Kimberly first," he replied, waggling his eyebrows suggestively at her. She shot him a look that could've turned him to stone before placing her own hands back in her lap.

Before Mulder could think of any more annoying antics to start up, the door to the office opened and Assistant Director Skinner stepped out.

"Agents, sorry about the delay. I'm ready for you now." He held the door open while Mulder and Scully stood and approached him, Mulder's hand, as always, finding the small of Scully's back and steering her through the doorway. Both located their respective seats in front of Skinner's desk and settled themselves into them while Skinner crossed and took his place behind it. After a moment's pause to readjust his glasses he began.

"Agent Scully, I'm sure Agent Mulder has already given you some of the background to this case?" She nodded in the affirmative.

"Some sir, about it being a missing persons case, but nothing really more than that." Opening a file on the desk before him, he lent across and passed it to Scully who turned her attention to it while the Assistant Director continued speaking.

"Over the past four months seven people have gone missing from the Atrius Technological Institute in Haiti. Run by Americans, no one over here is entirely sure what they're researching. Needless to say, local law enforcement is at a dead end and has requested help from the FBI. Given the unexplainable nature of the case, I'm assigning it to you. Here are the missing person's reports on all seven victims for you to read on your way down there. You're booked on a 12:25 flight to Miami, with a connecting flight from there to Haiti." Skinner retrieved the fax containing their ticket confirmation and was about to lean across the desk to hand it to Mulder when he paused, thinking better of it and changed his direction to hand the piece of paper to Scully.

Mulder feigned a look of hurt.

"Sir, don't you trust me with something as simple as the confirmations of our flight?"

"Quite frankly Agent Mulder, no. Not after the Seattle incident when you and Agent Scully were stuck there for 24 hours after you lost the confirmation of your return tickets." Mulder lowered his head sheepishly while Scully suppressed a smile, tucking the offending piece of paper into her inside jacket pocket. Skinner dismissed them with a wave of his hand and both agents rose simultaneously to leave, Mulder scooping up the seven missing persons reports on his way past the desk. He reached the door first and held it for Scully, who was forced to duck under Mulder's arm as he blocked the rest of the doorway with his body. She glared at him and he smiled broadly back, only serving to irritate her further. The door swung shut behind them, leaving A.D. Skinner to merely shake his head and return his attentions to the pile of paperwork that occupied the majority of his desk.

*

Three and a half hours later, Mulder and Scully were sat on American Airlines flight AA1121 direct to Miami. Mulder had commandeered the aisle seat for himself, mumbling something about it being easier for Scully to sit in the other seat as she had shorter legs, leaving her wedged in between Mulder's body and the window. It was a four and a half hour flight down to Miami International, with about 200 plus other people squeezed into coach like cattle. Scully hated flying at the best of times, but the knowledge that she was unable to leave her seat when she wanted merely added to her anxieties. As she felt the plane moving off from the gate and taxiing along the runway, her hands instinctively grabbed the armrests on the seat. She dug her nails in hard and slammed her eyes tight shut. As she felt the plane begin to pick up speed along the runway, her fingers bit harder into the arms and her stomach gave a lurch as the wheels lifted off the ground and the plane ascended at a rather steep angle. Her mind began running through all of the statistics on plane crashes and how they are most likely to occur during take off, when the sensation of Mulder's hand on hers silenced her brain. He gave it a gentle, reassuring squeeze and left his own there until the plane leveled out, the seatbelt signs were switched off and her eyes had opened. Scully glanced over at him, offering a weak smile of thanks as it registered that the gesture had been the only thing he had done all day that hadn't irritated her in the slightest. She pried her fingers off of the armrests and loosened her belt slightly, while Mulder opted to remove his completely. She felt a small pang of annoyance. What the hell was going on today? When had he started getting on her nerves this much?

With a sigh of resignation Scully reached down under the seat in front, pulling out her briefcase that contained the missing persons reports and fished them out, handing a few to Mulder to look over which he accepted wordlessly.

After a couple of minutes of silence while both agents read, Scully spoke up.

"So, who are we dealing with?"

"I've got Maria Rodriguez, 35, Hispanic woman, originally from Cuba, was working as a cleaning lady at the Atrius Institute. Also David Benson, 41, Caucasian male, born in Philadelphia, worked as a lawyer and Ken Stewart, 54, Caucasian male, a scientist over on loan from NASA."

"I've got Bette Wolfe, 28, African American woman from Detroit, worked as a lab technician; Fernand Van Müller, 38, originally from Austria, an astrophysicist doing a year's internship at Atrius; Edward Bosworth, 44, Caucasian male from Salt Lake City, worked as a security guard and Ella Stokes, 36, Caucasian woman from Dallas, was a lead researcher in particle physics." Mulder, who had been jotting down the other names and descriptions onto a piece of paper as she spoke, looked up and removed his glasses as she finished, laying them on top of his notepad.

"Well, what do they all have in common?"

"Aside from all working for the Atrius Technological Institute, nothing. All different ethnic groups, born in different places, varying in gender and age. This makes no sense Mulder. If this were a serial killer, he isn't following a standard pattern or MO."

"Who mentioned a serial killer?" Mulder asked with a wide smile. Scully fought the urge to wipe it off his face. "There was never any blood or evidence found after the people went missing, no bodies turned up. From the looks of it they all just disappeared into thin air." Scully shook her head.

"People can't just disappear into thin air Mulder. It's impossible for solid matter to simply vanish."

"If you say so Scully," he replied with a slight smile, replacing his glasses on his face and returning to the files in front of him. Scully watched him for a moment, slightly baffled. He knew more than he was letting on. She would've bet her month's pay check on it.


	2. Chapter 2

After a rather uneventful flight from Miami International to Port-Au-Prince International, the horrific connecting flight Mulder and Scully had to endure from Port-Au-Prince to Port de Paix, where the Atrius Technological Institute was based, came as a shock to the system. The airplane, built to seat 6, had been tossed like a toy boat in a bath, diving dramatically before leveling out, only to drop again after a few seconds. This pattern meant that what in actual fact was only a 40 minute plane journey had felt like it lasted a lifetime to its two passengers. More than once during the flight Scully had been convinced that they were both going to die, if not from the plane actually crashing then at the very least from a myocardial infarction. Even Mulder, who normally was unfazed by any kind of turbulence, looked more than a little shaken when they finally touched down at the tiny airport and disembarked the plane. Running a hand through his disheveled brown hair, Mulder leaned towards Scully and whispered, "I gotta tell you, I'm fighting the urge to throw myself on the floor and kiss the runway." Scully smiled weakly, her stomach still somewhere near her tonsils. Just before they actually reached the "airport", which to Mulder looked more like a glorified shack, Scully stopped abruptly and dropped her bags to the floor. Mulder, who was a few steps ahead of her halted also and turned round to face her, starting to speak as he did, "Scully, you o…" his question tapered off as he turned round in time to see that he had directed his previous statement to Scully's rapidly retreating back. She dashed round the side of the airport building and out of sight, though still within earshot, as Mulder could hear the pained sounds of heaving and retching as the turbulent journey finally took its toll on her.

*

Roughly an hour later, after Scully's stomach had settled sufficiently to allow them to travel, the agents pulled up in front of the Atrius Technological Institute. Mulder drove, as usual, although Scully for once had absolutely no objections to this; she didn't think she would've been able to concentrate both on the task of driving and tempering her nausea.

The Atrius Technological Institute was nothing like what Mulder and Scully had been expecting. It was mainly laid out on one storey, although a second storey was visible at the back of the building. From what they could see, there weren't many windows but all of them had blinds drawn. The walls had probably been white at one time, but the years and the elements had not been kind and the color had faded to a dull, dirty cream.

There was an entrance foyer about a hundred or so meters from where the car was parked, which both agents strode confidently towards once they had exited the vehicle. As they got closer, Mulder's eyebrows furrowed as he noticed something, or rather the lack of something.

"This is supposed to be a government facility yet there's no security? Doesn't that strike you as slightly odd?" Scully simply nodded as she pushed her way through the glass doors, holding on to one long enough for Mulder to catch it and make his way through. The doors shut behind them with a satisfying 'whoosh' of air.

Upon entering the building, Mulder and Scully were confronted by what appeared to be a reception desk, with a bored looking receptionist perched behind it, filing her nails and skimming through a magazine that lay on the counter. Hearing the agents' footsteps, she jerked her head up and shot them a dazzling smile, which was returned half heartedly by both Mulder and Scully. Having already retrieved his badge from the right hand pocket of his jacket, Mulder took the lead.

"Hi, my name is Agent Mulder and this is Agent Scully, with the FBI. We're here to meet with Professor Jacques Arkouche, could you please tell him that we're here?" The receptionist simply gave Mulder a blank look, causing him to repeat what he'd said, only slower. Again the receptionist stared at him in confusion. Mulder turned to Scully, an exasperated look on his face, and was about to ask for her assistance when the woman behind the desk finally spoke.

"Je suis désolée; je ne peux pas vous comprendre. Je ne parle pas anglais. [[I'm sorry, I can't understand you. I don't speak English.]]" Mulder's eyebrows rose as his gaze shot to the receptionist then back to Scully, who shrugged.

"Well, Haiti is a predominantly French speaking country." Rolling his eyes, Mulder turned his attentions back to the receptionist, trying unsuccessfully to get his point across by repeating his previous sentence over and over, only louder and whilst gesticulating wildly. All the receptionist could do was look blank and keep repeating the same phrase, "Je ne comprends pas. [[I don't understand]]"

After about 5 minutes of the ridiculous exchange Scully could stand it no longer. Heaving a sigh she stepped forward, capturing the other woman's attention and smiled before beginning.

"Je suis désolée pour mon associé. Il ne parle pas français. Je suis Agente Scully et lui c'est Agent Mulder. Nous travaillons avec le FBI et nous sommes ici pour rencontrer Professeur Jacques Arkouche. Pourriez-vous s'il-vous-plaît lui dire que nous sommes ici? [[I'm sorry for my partner. He doesn't speak French. I'm Agent Scully and he's Agent Mulder. We work with the FBI and we're here to meet Professor Jacques Arkouche. Could you please tell him that we're here?]]" Mulder's mouth fell open in shock as Scully spoke in effortless French with a perfect accent. The receptionist smiled and picked up a phone, replying, "Oui Madame, je lui appellerai pour lui dire que vous êtes arrivés. [[Yes madame, I'll call him to tell him that you've arrived.]]" After dialing a number and speaking in rapid French to the person on the other end, she hung up and turned back to Scully.

"Il vient." Scully smiled before concluding, "Merci. Nous attendrons là-bas." and walking over to a small waiting area to the left of the reception desk. Mulder could do nothing but follow her; unable to close his mouth until they'd sat down and Scully did it for him. After a minute, Mulder regained his composure enough to speak.

"What the hell was that?" Scully simply shrugged, a coy smile spreading across her face. "Why didn't you tell me you could speak French, and save me from making an ass of myself?" She smiled wider.

"Well after you woke me up last night I couldn't get back to sleep so, given that Haiti's first language is French, I thought I'd do something productive."

All Mulder could do was shake his head.

*

A few minutes later the elevator doors on the other side of the lobby opened and a disheveled, yet not completely unattractive man stepped out, running a weary hand through his short graying hair. Noticing Mulder and Scully's position, he strode across the over-polished linoleum floor towards them. Both agents stood at his approach. When he reached them, he extended an arm to shake first Mulder's, then Scully's hand. Scully took the lead, Mulder's ego having been deflated slightly after the incident with the receptionist.

"Professeur Jacques Arkouche? Je suis Agente Scully et lui, c'est Agent Mulder…" The professor cut her off before she could continue.

"I can speak perfect English thank you," he replied curtly, his voice thick with a heavy French accent. Scully was slightly taken aback, but didn't miss a beat.

"As I was saying, I'm Agent Scully and this is Agent Mulder. We were sent by the FBI to investigate the mysterious disappearances that have been occurring recently at this facility."

"I know who you are." This guy really wasn't playing ball. Mulder decided to try a different tact.

"I realize this must be an inconvenience to you, but we're here solely to try and find out what happened to these people. The more you assist us with our investigation, the sooner we'll be back on a plane and out of your hair." This approach seemed to appeal to him a lot more, but unfortunately did nothing to change his attitude. Wordlessly, he turned on his heels and headed back towards the elevator, motioning with his hand for the agents to follow. Scully's jaw set in annoyance as they obeyed.

"I feel like a Goddamn lap dog," she muttered under her breath. "I'm surprised he doesn't turn around, pat his legs and tell us to heel." Mulder suppressed a smile as they joined the waiting professor in the elevator. He pushed a button, glowering when he had to reach round Mulder to do so. The doors closed with a gentle ping, and both Mulder and Scully had to fight a sigh. This was going to be a very long day.

*

One floor up and the elevator doors opened. Professor Arkouche stepped out and turned to face the agents as they followed.

"Alright, I don't have much time for this. Ask what you want to ask, but do not expect to find anything useful here. I hope you know what a busy man you are disturbing." Mulder and Scully exchanged glances, and Mulder decided to get down to business before they lost Arkouche completely.

"Professor Arkouche, could you tell us a little more about these disappearances? It would really help us with the investigation."

"I'm not sure I know anything that would be useful. One day these people where here, the next gone." After a moment's pause to be sure he wasn't going to elaborate further, Mulder continued.

"Anything you can remember about the days these people vanished? Even something you may think is irrelevant could be significant to us and our investigation." Arkouche sighed, clearly exasperated.

"There is nothing I could tell you that would help." Out of the corner of his eye, Mulder noticed Scully raising an eyebrow. This guy was definitely not telling the whole truth. That combined with his attitude, was really beginning to irritate Scully.

"Professor, I don't mean to speak out of turn, but if you aren't a little more cooperative there isn't really much we can do to find out what happened here." At this, Professor Arkouche stopped dead in his tracks and whirled round to face Scully, eyes ablaze.

"I didn't ask you people to come here and start poking around in our affairs. This does not concern you or your government. For all I know you could be spies here to steal our research." Scully was slightly taken aback, but stood her ground.

"Sir, this situation very much concerns us. Five of the seven people missing were American citizens, which is why we were sent to investigate in the first place. Now, unless you loosen your less than accommodating attitude, Agent Mulder and myself will be forced to return to the States and file a report stating that you refused to cooperate with us, prompting the government to conduct a full investigation into your facility and whatever it is you are researching here. It is entirely your choice Sir." Arkouche remained silent, eyes locked with Scully's, seemingly staring her down. But, true to form, Scully refused to budge an inch. After what seemed like an eternity Arkouche's shoulders slumped slightly before he sighed and turned on his heel, continuing down the corridor. Scully set her jaw, took a controlled breath and pursued him. Mulder – now well aware of the personality clash he was dealing with – whistled quietly and set off after the pair of them with an expression suited to someone preparing for an explosion.

They didn't get much further when Mulder noticed a door to their right. It was grey, much like the others they had passed, but the red lettering on it caught his attention. He ignored the French words, instead skipping straight to the English translation below: DANGER. HIGHLY VOLATILE MATERIAL. DO NOT ENTER. Intrigued, he paused before calling out to the Professor, who stopped and turned to acknowledge him.

"What's behind this door?" Arkouche stared at it before replying,

"Nothing of any importance or relevance. We must continue." He began walking again, as did Scully. Confused, Mulder reread the warning once more before jogging slightly to catch up with Scully.

"Why do I get the feeling he's not being entirely honest with us?" Mulder whispered, leaning in close to Scully's ear to enable her to hear him.

"Maybe because he hasn't said one completely honest thing to us since we got here?" she replied and Mulder suppressed a grin. Ahead of them, Arkouche had approached another much more uninteresting door, which he proceeded to knock upon. A few seconds passed before it opened to reveal another slightly frazzled looking man. He was around Arkouche's height, if a little bulkier. The two men began conversing in rapid French, which Scully was only able to decipher bits and pieces of. At one point, Arkouche gestured over his shoulder at the two agents.

"Ever get the feeling we're being talked about?" Mulder mumbled. Scully simply shook her head, trying to concentrate on the conversation. She was so engrossed in fact, that she didn't notice herself being pulled backward until she realized she could no longer hear what the two men were saying. With a start, she turned to face Mulder, who at some point had grabbed hold of her arm and began dragging her back along the corridor towards the mysterious door.

"Mulder what the hell are you doing?" Scully hissed, digging her heels in to try and stop him. But Mulder was far stronger than her, so resistance was futile.

"Come on Scully. You can't tell me that you're not even the slightest bit intrigued by that door. And the way Arkouche just dismissed it, he's definitely hiding something." All Scully could do was roll her eyes as Mulder brought her to an abrupt stop outside the door. His eyes gleamed like a mischievous little boy as he brought his hand up to the door knob. Just as he was about to twist it, a shout from behind them caused both agents to jump and look back up the corridor. The man Arkouche had been speaking with had evidently seen them, and he didn't look too happy about what they intended to do. His face was white with horror as he began sprinting along the corridor towards them, all the while shouting, "Hé Monsieur! C'est interdite, cette salle-là!" Scully looked back at Mulder, his hand still gripping the door knob.

"Mulder…" she began, but was quickly cut off by the man's voice.

"Vous ne pouvez pas y aller!" He and Professor Arkouche had stopped about two feet away from them and were standing, eyes wide with alarm.

"Vraiment? Pourquoi?" Scully replied, her interest finally piqued. Breathing deeply, the man looked her square in the eye before speaking.

"C'est là qu'on fait les expériences espace-temps, bien sur." Scully's brow furrowed in confusion as she tried to decipher this last sentence. Her eyes widened as it dawned on her. They're doing time-space experiments in there? But before Scully could respond or fully process the information, a huge blast of air nearly knocked her off her feet as Mulder opened the door with a flick of his wrist. She whirled round, preparing to yell at him to shut the door when she saw that the force of the air was dragging him inside the room. Scully was only able to watch in terror as Mulder flailed his arm, searching desperately for something to prevent himself from being sucked inside, and grabbing onto the closest thing; her own arm. All she could do was scream as both she and Mulder were wrenched from the ground and pulled into the room. Arkouche and his colleague looked on agape as the two agents disappeared from view and the door slammed closed behind them.


	3. Chapter 3

Mulder was the first one to hit the ground, landing in and completely crushing a large tropical plant, before instantly starting to roll downhill. The slope was soft, damp and forested, and he saw alternating snatches of green and brown as he tumbled, utterly unable to get his bearings. He scrabbled to grab hold of something he could use to stop himself falling, and managed to catch a vine in his outstretched fingers.

As he clung to the ground and tried to get his breath back, he suddenly saw a flash of grey and white streak past in a cloud of cursing. Evidently Scully had just overtaken him.

"Scully!" He called after her – but she had disappeared into the trees. "Scully! Ugh, dammit, dammit…"

Swaying slightly, he tried to haul himself upright – but the world was still spinning, and though he thought he could see a branch near him, when he reached out he got nothing but a fistful of air. Losing his footing anew, his arms flailed momentarily before he met the earth with a thud and resumed his descent.

He only completed a few more somersaults, however, before being halted by a collision with something small and soft. When it swore at him, he realised what it was.

"Get the hell off me, Mulder!" She commanded angrily. Mulder's head lolled to the side, and although he was still seeing stars even he could make out Scully's rather squashed form, sandwiched between a wide tree trunk and his own body.

She shoved him hard and he flopped onto his back, to find himself staring up at a thick rainforest canopy with patches of blue sky above. His vision was swimming, and he watched Scully stand up as from beneath the surface of water.

Scully, on the other hand, had always had a clearer head; as Mulder lay sprawled on the ground, she stood hands on hips and surveyed their surroundings. All she could see was rainforest in every direction, but she was sure she could hear signs of life being carried on the breeze from downhill - laughter, shouting, music. At least they couldn't have been right in the middle of nowhere, then.

She looked back down at Mulder, who was starting to get up, fervently rubbing his hands over his eyes. He could tell from the highly annoyed expression on her face that she was far from amused by their current situation. Once Mulder was on his feet and had regained his bearings Scully began to speak.

"Mulder, what the hell are we going to do now?"

"Beats the hell out of me," he replied, matching her tone. Scully's eyes narrowed as she fought to tamp down her increasing irritation.

"I don't suppose you have any thoughts as to where we might be?" Mulder simply shrugged.

"Well, right before we got sucked through that door, Professor Arkouche did say they were conducting space-time experiments in there." Scully's eyebrows rose slightly.

"Give me some credit Scully. It was pretty much the same as English. Any idiot could've figured out what it meant." It was all Scully could do to stop the sarcastic retort that was threatening to surface.

"Mulder, the entire notion of time travel completely defies the laws of physics. It's utterly impossible." At that moment the two agents heard rustling and giggling from a bush slightly behind them and to Scully's left. They whirled round to see a woman rush out laughing and wearing a rather revealing corseted dress, followed swiftly by a man wearing a frock coat and ruffled shirt. Scully gaped and Mulder smirked in amusement as they watched the couple run down the hill and out of sight. After a beat Mulder spoke, "Improbable, but apparently not impossible." Scully turned back to him and replied, "Ok, let's suspend reality here for a minute and say I believe your highly *improbable* time travel theory, what exactly do you propose we do now?"

"Seeing as we're on a case, and are being paid for it, maybe we could give finding those missing people a shot." He reached into his pocket and rummaged around for a bit before pulling out his badge and inspecting it closely. "So you think they know what the FBI is around here?" Scully sighed with exasperation before storming off down the hill towards the town she could hear in the distance. Mulder dutifully followed, curious as to what this place would bring.

*

As they descended down the hill, the sound of music started to get louder, a riot of accordions and violins thrashing out furious reels and jigs. Mulder glanced sidelong at Scully.

"Hey this is Irish music isn't it? Should make you feel right at home."

Scully shot him a look that would've melted titanium and continued walking, only getting a few paces before tossing over her shoulder, "Actually, it's not Irish, it's Southern English." Mulder shook his head incredulously and followed her as buildings started to loom up through the trees. They were approaching the end of a street, the air thick with yellow smoke between wattle and daub walls that hung over the dirt road. There was bright light behind the stained glass windows and Mulder and Scully found themselves stumbling upon what seemed to be one huge party.

Two brawling drunks chose that moment to stagger out of an open doorway to join the crowd on the street, punching at each other with slightly impaired aim and disappearing into the throng of merrymakers. Scully reached the edge of the forest and stepped onto the street before glancing back at Mulder. He saw her mouthing, "This could be fun." Mulder ran to catch up with her, wary of what might happen. There were a lot of other women on the street, but Scully hardly blended in with them. They were wearing what might have been classed as 18th century dress, but with distinctly less modesty than would've been expected: skirts with slits running up to the knee, colorful netted stockings, necklines leaving little to the imagination. Mulder blushed and avoided Scully's eye as he was reminded of one of his 'movies' at home.

Scully however was oblivious to his embarrassment as she noticed the rather large crowd that was beginning to congregate around them as they walked. As the crowd closed around them, Scully stopped and yanked on Mulder's arm, disrupting his previous train of thought.

"What?" was his only reply. She gestured toward the onlookers, who chose that moment to start cheering and tossing coins at their feet. Mulder couldn't resist and, leaning over, whispered in her ear,

"I think they want you to strip." Through clenched teeth Scully replied,

"My badge may not work here, but I'm pretty sure my gun still will." Luckily for Scully, she never had the opportunity to find out what they were expecting for no sooner had she finished speaking than an anonymous drunkard broke through the ranks of spectators and proceeded to vomit widely over the ground. Mulder and Scully jumped back, along with everyone else, and the congregation quickly melted back into the raucous mêlée that it had been before. Scully took Mulder's arm and hurried off, cursing her decision earlier that day to wear a skirt instead of pants. Mulder, having been distracted by a rather buxom woman leaning out of a window, barely registered he was being dragged into a side alley until he was thrown up against a wall.

"Hand over your jacket," Scully ordered, holding out an expectant hand. Mulder looked disappointed.

"And here was me thinking you'd dragged me round here so you could have your wicked way with me." From her face it was clear Scully was not amused.

"You can hardly be cold Scully. It's gotta be about 80 degrees out here."

"I am NOT walking around this town with my ankles on display. Hand it over or die." Mulder couldn't help but snicker slightly as he emptied the contents of his jacket pockets into his pants pockets, removed his jacket and handed it to the rather impatient Scully, who wrapped the arms around midthigh and secured it with a knot, allowing the back of the jacket to cover the front of her legs. Mulder just couldn't help himself.

"Very sexy." Scully took a very controlled breath, reigning in her anger. Although in reality she knew her dignity wouldn't last very long in this improvised outfit, as she turned and tottered back towards the street. Mulder watched her walk away for a moment, before wolf-whistling and calling after her,

"Really enjoying the view back here!" He wasn't entirely surprised when a strategically positioned finger appeared over her shoulder. Mulder smiled to himself and shook his head, starting to enjoy this trip even more than he had anticipated.

*

Having exited the side alley, Scully continued to walk along the main street of the town, Mulder easily catching up and falling into step beside her. All of a sudden, another drunkard, something which seemed to be a permanent fixture in this place, came swaggering out of a nearby doorway, making a beeline for Mulder and Scully. He approached Scully first, throwing his arms wide open and slurring, "I love Tortuga and I love you!" He lunged towards her, but Scully neatly ducked under his arm, causing him to fall straight onto Mulder, who deftly spun him around and pushed him towards the nearest prostitute, to whom he then proclaimed, "And I love you too!"

Scully stood with her arms crossed in front of her, watching the prostitute lead the man away towards, she noticed, the open door of the nearest pub.

"I'm starting to get the distinct impression that we really don't fit in here."

Mulder, distracted yet again by a group of women laughing and cooing at him, replied vaguely, "Yea, I think we need to get some new clothes." Scully's features contorted into a long suffering expression.

"Actually I was referring to us being respectable citiz…" Mulder walked towards her and cut her off mid flow.

"Especially you. They seem to have a pretty strict dress code around here for women. And as these fellas don't seem like the kind of guys you want to offend, and you've already covered up one of your assets…" he paused momentarily, reaching out a hand and skilfully undoing the top button of her blouse with two fingers to reveal ample cleavage, "… flaunt the other ones."

Deep inside of Scully, something snapped. The overwhelming desire that had been building since their arrival at the Atrius Institute finally became impossible to overcome. Mulder wasn't even aware of the right hook heading towards him until it connected forcefully with his jaw, propelling him backwards through the open door of the inn behind him and into the waiting arms of the nearest drunkard. By the time Mulder hit the wooden floorboards the man had already scrambled out from beneath him, and was standing offering his hand. The man was suitably dishevelled, with long untamed hair, a double plaited beard, a bandanna and what looked suspiciously to Mulder like heavy black eyeliner.

"You alright there mate?" he asked as he hauled Mulder up by the elbow. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Scully standing in the doorway, fist still clenched, before returning his gaze to Mulder, making it obvious he had witnessed the violent exchanged that had transpired.

"Not sure I deserved that," Mulder muttered under his breath, rubbing his aching jaw with his left hand. The bearded man sighed sympathetically,

"Tell me about it."


	4. Chapter 4

"You look like you need a drink after that." Mulder, who was still rubbing his stinging jaw which was now turning purple, looked around in a daze at the man standing next to him, who was holding out his hand.

"Captain Jack Sparrow," he introduced himself as Mulder accepted the handshake.

"Special Ag…" he began before cutting himself off. Having worked in the FBI for so long, "Special Agent" was his automatic response when required to introduce himself. But remembering his 18th century surroundings, he thought better of it. "Fox Mulder."

Jack grinned. "Fox? That sounds like a good strong pirate name to me."

Mulder hesitated, not really sure what to make of this remark. "So you're a pirate then?"

Jack laughed. "Pirate?! I'm Captain Jack Sparrow! Savvy?" With this he clamped his hand on Mulder's shoulder and steered him towards the bar. Unfortunately for Mulder, he was unaware that he had just confirmed himself in Jack Sparrow's mind as the most ignorant and vulnerable man in the whole of Tortuga.

"Maria?" Jack called to the barmaid, leaning just a little too suggestively over the counter towards her. "I need a very strong ale for this young gentleman."

"Anything for you Jack," she replied with a flirtatious smile and flutter of the eyelashes.

Jack looked over his shoulder at Scully, who had not moved from her position in the doorway and was now glowering angrily at the sight of Mulder sitting at the bar.

"D'you think your lady friend would like a drink?" he offered.

Looking at Scully himself, Mulder held up the metal pint flagon that the barmaid had just passed to him, the froth spilling over onto his knuckles, and with his face asked her if she wanted one.

He should've been able to predict his partner's reaction, which, instead of genially accepting the offer, was to set her jaw – eyes blazing – and storm out onto the street, promptly disappearing into the crowd. It was obvious that she had finally had enough of Mulder's antics.

From behind his own drink, Jack's expression betrayed his experience with women in rages.

"Take that as a no then," he concluded.

*

If she had been able to see it, Scully would've been pleasantly surprised by Mulder's behaviour since her dramatic departure. True to his word, he tried his best to treat the inn and Jack's company as part of the investigation – and therefore wisely avoided the ale he had been so graciously given.

However the experience had not proved as useful as he had hoped it might, and no matter how he worded his questions Jack seemed to know nothing that could be of any help to him. What's more, for someone who had learned to trust his instincts, he couldn't deny the overwhelming feeling that Jack was buttering him up for something. He smiled a lot, he always tried to be helpful when answering questions, he kept offering to buy Mulder another drink. Mulder didn't want to be cynical, but it was unusual for someone he'd just met to be so friendly (although Mulder had largely been the excuse for the copious amounts of alcohol Jack had consumed since entering the bar).

As he was mulling over any other possible reasons for Jack's amicability, two girls entered the inn – the first two he'd seen so far who weren't dressed like whores. Instead they were wearing long trousers and boots, like many of the men he'd seen, and shirts buttoned up high enough to avoid too many leering gazes, and their faces were free of white make-up or pink blusher, showing their olive skin. They looked to be somewhere between 16 and 19, but it was difficult to tell in the dim light. Mulder's interest increased when he saw that they were heading towards Jack, weaving purposefully through the throng.

The girl in front was the taller of the pair, but not by much, with striking green eyes and black braids falling all the way down her back, the front few pulled out of her eyes and tied with a scrap of cloth. She carried two swords, one on either side, and the glint of a dagger hilt was peeping out of her left boot. Her companion, following close behind her, also appeared quite heavily armed with a pistol holstered to her belt on one side and a sword on the other. Her hair was auburn and shorter than her friend's, ending just below her shoulders and held back with a light blue bandana that matched the shade of her eyes. As they approached, she leaned forward and whispered something to her companion, but Mulder couldn't make out what it was. The black-haired girl made a reply as they reached the bar, and Mulder realised they were speaking Spanish.

Jack noticed that Mulder was staring over his shoulder, and turned to see what had captured his attention – and upon seeing the new arrivals immediately raised his glass in greeting.

"Look who it is, it's my favourite girls!" He exclaimed, speech starting to slur a little. "Come here, I've made a new friend." He grinned. "He's a bit on the strange side, but don't let that put you off."

The black-haired girl raised an eyebrow and smirked. "It didn't put us off you, Jack."

"True, true," Jack conceded, swivelling back round to face Mulder as the girls came to stand beside him. In the light of the candles on the bar, Mulder began to narrow down the age gap. 17? 18?

"Hate to disturb you if you're having fun," began the red-head, "and there may be no point telling you this in your current state, but we came to remind you we need more rope for the rigging before we leave. And if you don't get any then, well, you can climb it 'cause I won't."

Jack rolled his eyes. "Thank you, Yelena. Always so helpful."

"I do what I can." With a swift motion of her arm, she reached round Jack's shoulder, grabbing his drink from his hand and taking a large swig, replacing it into his still open hand before he had a chance to protest or move. "Come on Soledad, let's leave them to it." And with that, both girls turned on their heels and left the inn.

"Bloody women," Jack muttered, motioning for Maria to refill his glass.

"Glad I'm not the only one with problems," Mulder commented as he raised his drink to his lips, finally allowing himself to partake of the refreshments available. Just as he was about to replace his flagon on the bar, something shiny in it caught his eye. Tilting it towards a candle to get a better look, he reached inside and pulled out a coin. He held it up to show Jack. "Look what I've found!"

Jack, having just taken a large gulp of his drink, turned to see what Mulder was so excited about - but upon seeing the coin, jerked with shock and spat most of the mouthful of rum across the bar. He snatched the coin from Mulder's hand, dropped it back into the mug and pushed the offending drink away. He grabbed Mulder roughly by the tie, pulling him close to his face.

"Do not tell anyone you found that," he said in a terse whisper. "That shilling could be the quickest way to say goodbye to the rest of your life, savvy?" He released him and took a large swig of rum, swallowing audibly. Mulder simply stared at him in wide-eyed confusion. He was about to ask why, when a commotion near the door drew his attention. Three men had just entered, in officers' uniforms, and around them people shrank back in order to make room for them to pass through. Jack glanced over his shoulder at the officers and muttered darkly, "Speak of the devil."

"What do you mean?" Mulder asked.

Jack checked that nobody was listening near them before replying.

"Those are three officers from the Adversary, the ship of Captain Halcón. Notorious throughout the seven seas. You do not want to serve under him." Then his eyes brightened suddenly as though he had just remembered something. "Whereas I, on the other hand, have a much better reputation among those lucky enough to be in my crew…" He looked as though he was about to start a detailed description of his various merits, but Mulder cut him off before he had the opportunity to start a self-gratificating rant.

"Notorious for what?"

Jack set down his drink and looked at Mulder oddly. "You really don't know anything, do you? Where have you come from?"

Mulder paused. "That's a long story. Tell me about Halcón." The officers were pushing their way through to the bar, knocking aside anyone who didn't see them in time to move, and Jack surreptitiously slid the mug with the coin in further away from them. Then leaning in, he began quietly,

"No one really knows how long he's been sailing, but he's had that ship ever since he broke off from the East India Trading Company. He wasn't making enough money, he didn't have enough power. Now he's got his loyal officers – they're the ones you want to watch out for." He stole a nervous, hasty glance over his shoulder at the 3 men standing at the bar.

"Like them?" asked Mulder.

"Exactly. No-one in their right mind ever joins the crew so if someone manages to jump ship without getting caught, Halcón has to pressgang to make up the numbers."

"Pressganging? What, forcing people to join the crew? I thought only the navy could do that," said Mulder, confused.

Jack snorted. "Yeah. You can believe that if you want, mate." He pointed to the drink in which Mulder had found the shilling, and opened his mouth as if to start an explanation, but Mulder's brain was putting pieces together - and, thinking he might see a lead for the missing persons case, he interjected:

"Has he been taking people recently? Does he do it very often?"

Jack just laughed. "He does it as often as he bloody well wants, mate! It's usually when he's worked some poor bugger to death, or shot them for desertion, or by some miracle someone's escaped from the crew and not been caught." A mischievous smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Like now, for instance, he's probably still looking to replace the two who gave him the slip last month…the only two I've ever known to jump ship and live to tell the tale." He took a generous gulp of his rum. "So if you really want to know about our friend Halcón you should be talking to them."

"To who?"

"My girls. Soledad and Yelena, they were here just now."

Mulder was visibly taken aback. "You mean they've served under Halcón?"

Jack nodded. "6 months before his mast, before they managed to come back to me."

"6 months?" Mulder's incredulous tone made it obvious he had been expecting something much more dramatic. "That doesn't sound like very long."

A glimmer flashed through Jack's eye, and he grinned. "You try telling them that."

Mulder paused as though thinking, and looked from the officers at the bar, to Jack, and back to the officers.

"But…if they escaped his crew, aren't you worried about them wandering around the town with Halcón's men on the prowl?"

Jack shrugged. "I'm sure they can look after themselves, it's what they always have done."

There was slight hesitation on Mulder's face before he asked, "Do you think it would be possible for me to speak with them?"

Again, Jack shrugged. "That's not up to me to answer. If you can find 'em, you can speak as much as your merry heart desires." With that, he slid down off his stool and picked up the brown coat he had left draped over the bar. "I myself have business to attend to but I would be willing to arrange a rendez-vous if I am required." He attempted a friendly smile, though the impression Mulder had been getting earlier that he was being buttered up for something had by now faded. It must have been gradual, over the course of the conversation, but Mulder suspected that as he was no longer providing Jack with an excuse to drink, there was no need for excessive kindness to be shown towards him any more.

"No, thank you, I think I'll stay here for now – I'd like to speak with some other people first," the agent replied, glancing round the room at the couple of people he had picked out as likely sources of gossip and, therefore, information. "But I would like to speak with the girls as well, later."

Jack slid the coat over his shoulders, "Then I'll bring them with me when I come back. See you here in an hour."

A sudden burst of raucous laughter behind him snatched Mulder's attention, and he turned his head instinctively, but upon seeing that nothing of consequence was happening, turned straight back to shake Jack's hand – only to find that the pirate had already vanished. He cast a bemused glance from left to right, but Jack was nowhere to be seen.

Mulder gave himself a shake, and forbid himself to feel confused or out of his depth, quickly focusing on the interviews he had readily planned in his mind. First, the bar maid – if there was anything that could possibly link Halcón and his sailors to the Americans and Europeans who had disappeared, she of all people was bound to know something about it. There was also a gentleman seated in the very corner of the inn, who had been silently observing the comings and goings ever since Mulder first noticed him there, so he probably had a few useful observations to share. He realised, however, that this information would probably not be divulged for free – though simply handing over money would not do. Firstly, because all he had was modern Haitian currency, and no idea whether it was acceptable or not; and secondly, because it might be taken offensively, as too obvious a bribe.

He stood contemplating for a second, then suddenly remembered the shilling in his drink. Perfect! It was appropriate currency for sure, and he could give it to the barmaid saying that it was really hers, since he found it in his drink. Well, she would hardly refuse, would she – thus an exchange of money could take place without any awkwardness. And once the exchange had taken place she was far more likely to talk openly. Yes, of course!

Congratulating himself on his quick wit, Mulder stepped back up to the bar and retrieved his flagon from the far side, where Jack had left it. He didn't notice one of the officers, standing no more than a couple of yards away, looking sideways at him with a hint of suspicion in his eyes. A lot of the drink had been spilt as Jack had shoved it around the wooden board, which meant that Mulder didn't have to get his hand quite so covered in rum this time as he reached in and pulled out the shilling between his two forefingers. He wiped it over with his tie and held it up to the light, smiling satisfactorily. Poor Mulder. He had no idea what he had just done.

The suspicious officer had just had his suspicions confirmed, and no sooner had Mulder held up the shilling than the three of them were upon him – one of them snatching the coin from his hand and inspecting it briefly.

"Yes, this is the one, I thought so!"

"Wh- what?" Stammered Mulder, starting to struggle as he realised that the other two already had his arms. There were gasps from the surrounding onlookers, who clearly understood what was going on. "What are you talking about??"

The first officer thrust the shilling in Mulder's face. "What, you don't know what this means?" He looked at his companions, and they all laughed. Suddenly Mulder felt something hard hit his back, and realised that he had been pulled backwards until he was against a thick wooden pillar…leaving him nowhere to run. The officer stepped closer to him. "You ever sailed before, sonny?"

"What?" Was Mulder's bemused reply.

"Hm. Take that as a no." The officer sighed. "Oh well, never mind, first time for everything, eh boys?" He made a motion with his head towards the door, and the two men holding Mulder began to drag him that way, following their leader. Mulder squirmed and kicked, terrified and not having the faintest clue what was happening.

"Hey! Let go of me!"

"Oh, for heaven's sake," growled the officer, spinning round furiously. "Stop squealing, will you?"

And the last things Mulder remembered of that inn were a hail of fists falling on his face, a sensation of dizziness, extreme pain, and then darkness.


	5. Chapter 5

Despite Mulder's desire to talk with Soledad and Yelena, even if he hadn't been pressganged onto Halcón's ship, events that were about to transpire would have prevented it anyway.

As Mulder was being dragged towards the docks, Soledad and Yelena were making their way up the hill through the town, weaving through the thick crowds of Tortuganites.

As they walked, Soledad looked over her shoulder,

"You don't think that Halcón's officers could've followed us from the bar, do you?"

"No lo creo. (I don't think so.) Who the hell was that guy Jack picked up in the bar?" Yelena queried, changing the subject.

"Ninguna idea (No idea)," Soledad replied. "Although you know the kind of random people Jack manages to scrape out of the gutter. Who knows where he came from."

"Still, he's kinda cute though, and that is a novelty where Jack's acquaintances are concerned."

Soledad looked incredulous, "En serio? (Seriously?)"

Yelena simply nodded, looking slightly sheepish. Soledad shook her head, "I don't believe you!"

Yelena was saved from any more of Soledad's mocking reproaches as a drunk man staggered toward them and barged into Yelena. Mumbling something that may of been an apology, he continued on his merry way, which took him straight through the open doors of the nearest tavern.

After they had walked a little way further Yelena began to smirk.

"Qué te pasa? (What's up with you?)" Yelena remained silent, though grinned even more as she held out her hand and opened it, allowing a solid gold pocket watch to fall and dangle on its chain, swinging in mid-air.

Soledad mirrored the grin. "Nicely done, amiga mía."

"Gracias," she replied, stooping slightly to bow mid-stride.

"That should bring us in some more money at Gore's."

The buildings trailed off as they left the town behind them and continued up the hillside, down a dirt path through the undergrowth. Mackenzie Gore ran a pawn shop above Tortuga, close enough the the town to be accessable but far enough away to protect it from the usual hoards of drunken people that swamped the town proper. The uphill climb would deter anyone not sober enough to do business. Soledad and Yelena were regular customers, having no home to speak of where they could store their swag, and so usually selling it.

As they rounded a bend in the path, the building appeared trough the trees. It was more of a hut than a building, balanced unsteadily on stilts driven into the ground and constructed from unevenly painted planks, many of which had obviously been salvaged from shipwrecks. Gore was standing on the porch, polishing a brass jug. He looked up as they approached and smiled at two of his best customers.

"Good afternoon ladies," he greeted them. He peered behind them to the west where the sun was beginning to lower itself towards the horizon. "Or should I say good evening. I wasn't expecting to see you for another couple of weeks."

"Yea well, Jack's having a bit of a crew crisis so he's come here on the scrounge," Soledad explained.

"I suppose you've seen the Adversary around. Halcón not made any advances yet?"

"No thankfully," Yelena replied. "We saw some of his officers in The Gin and Turtle but I don't think they saw us."

"No let's hope not."

Soledad reached into her pocket, moving the conversation along to their original purpose. "We've got some good jewellery for you. I hope you've got some money!"

Gore beamed and pushed the door open, moving to one side to allow Soledad and Yelena to enter. "Step into my office!" Soledad took the lead and entered the building first. Just as Yelena moved to step over the threshold, the sound of a twig snapping behind her caused her to whirl round and look out into the undergrowth. Scanning the trees she could see nothing, but her gut told her there was something not quite right. Her musings were disrupted by Gore's les than subtle cough before he nodded towards the still open door. Shaking her head, she passed through the open door, Gore following close behind and shutting it with a gentle click.

*

The golden sunlight was beginning to touch the roof of Gore's shop as a cautious hand moved aside a palm frond to get a better look.

"See anything?" came a whisper from a yard further behind. Gillpoyo craned his neck.

"No, but I'm sure it was them. I'd know those two anywhere."

"I hope you're right, because if we bring Halcón the wrong girls, you know what'll happen."

The first officer looked over his shoulder.

"Yes thank you, I was aware of that."

Suddenly their attention was drawn back to the building by the sound of the door being opened. Yelena and Soledad could be seen stepping out onto the porch, Soledad engaged in conversation with Gore. Yelena seemed to be glancing around nervously. They bid their farewells to Gore, who retreated back into his shop as the pair stepped down onto the pathway. Gillpoyo saw Yelena look back to check that the door was shut before turning to Soledad and saying quietly,

"Tenemos cuidado (Let's be careful). I thought I heard a noise out here earlier. I might be imagining things but it won't do any harm to be on our guard."

"Sí, de acuerdo (Yeah I agree)."

As they both began to look around, Gillpoyo shrank back into the foliage, but gave a subtle hand signal aimed at another group of officers. As he continued to watch them something must have caught Soledad's eye and she put her hand on Yelena's elbow,

"Did you see that?"

She peered into the trees, and Gillpoyo repeated the hand signal as Soledad's eyes met with his. She opened her mouth to scream but a large hand was clamped over it before she had the chance. The two officers who had been in the trees on the other side of the path were upon them in an instant, trying to tackle them to the ground - though with some difficulty, it has to be said.

Gillpoyo led the remaining officers out of the undergrowth to assist as Soledad and Yelena fought back against their captors. Soledad had somehow grabbed the knife from her boot and as Gillpoyo ran towards her managed to reach back and slice across the top of her assailant's leg; he hissed and let up his grip for a second, just long enough for her to spin round and deliver a powerful kick to his stomach. Fortunately for Gillpoyo, he was able to leap on her from behind and lock his arms around her before she could deal him the same treatment.

Meanwhile Yelena's attackers were having no easier a time; her first move had been to throw her head back, catching the officer in the chin and forcing him to bite his tongue. He released one of her arms in an automatic attempt to stem the blood flowing from his mouth, allowing her to reach round and grab his cojones*, giving her wrist a sharp flick and causing him to drop to his knees and howl out in pain. A brief smirk passed across her face before a second officer administered a blow to her abdomen, sending her sprawling winded across the ground. In her line of sight she could see Soledad pinned to the ground. As she watched Soledad reached up a cat-like hand and made a vicious clawing movement at Gillpoyo's eyes. He cried out and fell back onto his haunches, but before she could see any more a third officer took a rough hold on her hair and used the butt of his pistol to knock her unconscious.

*

Scully sat on the soft white sand of the beach, watching as the sun dipped lower in the sky. In the time she had been sitting there she had witnessed the sky go from crystal clear blue to a hazy orange-red. After the *incident* in the town with Mulder she had been fuming and thought it best if she got away from him in order to give herself time to calm down. He had been an incomparable asshole, and the comment about her 'assets' had been the very last straw. Digging her bare toes into the warm sand, she let out a long sigh and with it she released the last of her tension and annoyance. It was impossible not to relax in such a calming setting as this. But as she let go of her irritation, an overwhelming sense of regret and guilt washed over her. She had behaved appallingly, and ignored the unspoken rule of the FBI; always have your partner's back. She'd left him alone in this town, with no support if something went wrong. Closing her eyes in a gesture of contrition she placed her elbows on her knees and made a cradle for her head with her hands. How could she have been so stupid? If the roles had been reversed she knew that there was no way he would've left her by herself. With another deep sigh of resignation she reached out and grabbed hold of her black leather court shoes that rested in the sand beside the right arm of Mulder's jacket, which she'd been using to sit on. Slipping them onto her feet she used her arms to heave herself up until she was standing. She bent and scooped up Mulder's jacket, throwing it over her arm and headed back towards the town. As she got closer she paused for a moment, and regarded the jacket before tying it back around her thighs, covering the bottoms of her legs once more before resuming her journey back to the seedy, bizarre world that had been thrust upon her.

By the time Scully reached the beginning of the docks that separated the town from the beach the bottom of the sun had decended below the line of the horizon. Her heels tapped out a hollow rythmn on the weather-worn wooden slats. She halted for a moment, turning to scan the rows of pretty much identical looking buildings that faced the sea. If only she could remember which one she'd sent Mulder flying into. It was definitely a bar of some kind, but something told her that a bar wasn't exactly a rarity in this place. Shaking her head she turned back out to face the water, trying to figure out what to do next. The sight of a large ship sailing past caught her eye and she followed its progress as it sliced majestically through the waves and headed towards the mouth of the harbour, the wind filling its sails and aiding in its journey. She had seen it moored a little way out in the water earlier; she guessed it was too deep to have come all the way in. It certainly was a fine ship. With one last look at it she returned to the task at hand and was about to brave entering the nearest bar in order to enquire as to whether anyone had seen Mulder when a figure running in her direction captured her attention. It was a rather dishevelled looking man with a large amount of eye make-up on dashing along the dock, apparently shouting at the ship she had just seen sailing out of port. As he got closer, she recognised him as the man she had seen with Mulder in the bar.

He ran down the pier manically waving his arms and shouting,

"NO NO NO NO!!! STOP!!! WAIT!!! COME BACK!!!!" Scully tried to grab his arm as he passed but he was going too fast. He skidded to a stop right on the edge of the boarding and she strode towards him.

Maybe he would know what had become of her partner.

"Excuse me..." she began. When she received no response she stepped right in front of him.

"Move!" the man shouted, obviously agitated. "I need to go after that ship! That scabrous dog has stolen two members of my crew!" But Scully firmly stood her ground.

"I need to ask you some questions first."

"Look darling," the man replied, placing his hands on her shoulders and physically moving her out of the way. "Not right now. Savvy?" He turned away and stared wistfully after the ship, before stopping abruptly and turning back towards Scully.

"Wait, I remember you. You were here with that Mulder character weren't you?" At the mention of his name, Scully's head jerked in the man's direction.

"Do you know where he is?"

The man smirked. "Of course my dear. He's aboard that ship." He pointed towards the one he had been running after moments before.

"WHAT?!" Her attention turned back to the ship and before she knew what she was doing, began running along the dock shouting,

"STOP!! WAIT!! COME BACK!" But the ship was already too far out for her cries to even register with anyone on board as it headed towards the sunset. Scully's run slowed to a stop as she neared the end of the dock. "DAMMIT!" She turned back towards the man, about to ask him what they were going to do next, but he was already half way back down the dock.

"Wait!" She called after him, breaking into a jog in order to catch up with him. He stopped next to a ship, where he began talking with another slightly older-looking man.

"We've got problems, Gibbs. Soledad and Yelena were on that ship." Before Gibbs could reply however, Scully, who had managed to catch up with them, cut in.

"Excuse me," she began, causing the other man to turn. "Aren't you going to help?"

"Listen darling, while I do feel terribly about the loss of your dear companion, what would be in it for me? Unless you have a plan for pursuing and capturing the second most notorious ship in the Caribbean, which I very much doubt."

"Look, I overheard you talking, I know you've just lost two members of your crew on the same ship that's taken my partner. I could come with you, to replace them." As she finished, Scully stepped past Jack and tried to walk up the gang plank but Gibbs moved, blocking her path. Looking past her, he began talking to Jack, acting as though she wasn't there.

"This is a bad idea Jack, I don't think we should have her on the ship. You know it's unlucky to have a woman on board." Jack nodded and opened his mouth to speak, but Scully didn't give him the chance.

"Unless I'm mistaken," she replied rather indignantly. "The two crew members you just lost were women."

"That my dear is a completely different matter. They proved their worth on more than one occasion. Besides, what could a strumpet like you possibly know about sailing a ship?" Frustrated, Scully turned towards the ship in question, letting her eyes roam over it before they came to rest on the rigging. With a small smile she turned back to Jack.

"Well I'm sure you know better than I do whether you need an extra crew member, but I'll be interested to watch you sail out of here on a ship with rotten rigging that's tied down with the wrong knots. I would've thought a highly knowledgeable captain such as yourself would notice something as basic as that." Off of the shocked looks on both the men's faces, Scully explained. "My father was in the Navy. Is that a good enough credential for you?" At the mention of the Navy Jack became decidedly uncomfortable, pulling down his sleeve so that it covered the pirate brand on his arm. Noticing the change in his demeanour Scully regarded him carefully. "What's wrong with the Navy?"

"Nothing! Absolutely nothing at all wrong with the Navy. Smashing fellas," Jack replied quickly, giving her a wide nervous smile.

This guy gets weirder by the minute, Scully thought to herself. Out loud, she attempted to get the conversation back on track.

"So, are you going to let me on board or what?" Jack and Gibbs exchanged looks before turning their backs on her and, in hushed tones, had a heated debate over the pros and cons of allowing her to board the ship. After a few moments they turned back round and Jack beamed at Scully, throwing an arm around her shoulders.

"After a lengthy discussion between myself and my first mate, having weighed up the advantages against the many disadvantages that would befall us if we were to indeed allow you to accompany us aboard this fine vessel, we have come to the almost mutual conclusion not to refuse your entrance onto this ship." Scully simply stared at him before looking over at Gibbs.

"Translation?"

"That's just his way of saying yes."

"Oh, good," Scully replied, shrugging Jack's arm from her shoulders. "Shall we get going then?" She began once again to walk up the gang plank and board the ship but Jack grabbed her arm, whirling her back round.

"'Fraid not, love. You're not going anywhere with us dressed like that. We are getting you some new clothes before we leave Tortuga." His hand still clamped round Scully's arm, Jack dragged her back onto the dock and off towards the main street in Tortuga.

"Watch the ship Gibbs," he shouted over his shoulder. "This could take a while."

A few minutes later Jack was standing in a shop that sold all kinds of clothing, rifling through a pile while a distinctly unimpressed Scully stood nearby, surveying her surroundings and wondering, not for the first time that day, what the hell kind of situation she had stumbled into. Puffing out a frustrated breath, she wandered over to a pile and began looking through it, pulling out a pair of black pants and holding them up against her, mentally judging whether or not they would fit. Throwing them over her arm, she pulled out a white shirt that looked roughly her size, along with a black waistcoat and a pair of thigh high black heeled boots with laces running all the way up the front. Satisfied with her choices she turned back to Jack, who was already heading over towards her, holding something in his hand.

"I have managed to discover the most perfect little ensemble for you to wear on our voyage," he said, holding up what he had found for Scully's inspection. Scully guessed that it was supposed to be a dress. It had white ruffled sleeves and was cut rather low, with a bodice to squeeze the waist down to the size that was considered fashionable at the time, while also pushing other parts of the anatomy up and out. The skirt was slightly more acceptable, falling to the ground from where Jack held it. However, when he moved it he revealed a long slit that would probably run up to mid thigh level on her. In short, it wouldn't have looked at all out of place on any one of the women she had seen earlier when walking through Tortuga with Mulder. All Scully could do was stare at it.

"You don't seriously think I'm going to wear *that* do you?" Jack looked slightly bewildered.

"Why not? It's all the rage, all the lovelies ladies are wearing it, especially here in jolly ol' Tortuga!"

"My point exactly. It hardly looks like the kind of outfit that would be helpful during a fight."

Jack took another step closer, looking her up and down before leering and saying,

"While that may be true sweetheart, I won't be needing you to do any fighting, such a shame, and this dress would certainly be very comely on a lady with your...figure.." As he said the last word, he let his eyes linger for a moment on her cleavage, which, Scully realized, was still on display as she had neglected to do up the button Mulder had ceremoniously undone before she'd punched him and walked off. Blushing through both anger and embarrassment, Scully used her free hand to hold the top of her shirt together before turning on her heel and disappearing behind a curtain to change, leaving Jack standing in the middle of the shop still holding the dress and not even attempting to hide his disappointment.

After a moment's pause, Jack grinned and sidled over to the curtain, depositing the offending article of clothing on a nearby pile as he passed. He took the edge of the curtain between his forefingers, ready to twitch it aside, and offered - as casually as he could -

"Need any assistance in there, darling?" Jack jumped back as the cloth was yanked from his grasp, and was about to speak when something black and heavy hit him in the face. Pulling it away and holding it up, Jack realized it was a jacket. He looked back toward the curtain to see Scully's none-too-happy face glaring back.

"Try that again and I'll break your arm," she warned before closing the partition again. Jack chuckled and walked to the front of the shop, discarding the jacket among some clothes on his way.

About twenty minutes later, during which time Jack had been flirting heavily with the woman who ran the shop, the curtain was pulled back and Scully stepped out, clothed in her new outfit. Straightening a wrinkle in the pants, she huffed out a breath before walking towards Jack, who had failed to notice her reappearance, mainly due to the fact that his eyes were glued to the other woman's ample cleavage that threatened to spill out of the top of her dress at any given moment. He finally managed to wrench his gaze away when Scully gave a rather loud cough from behind him, causing him to turn around. Leaning backwards against the counter on his elbows, his eyes swept up and down her form, taking in the transformation. Gone was the respectable business suit of an FBI agent; in its place were the black pants, which Scully had to admit fit a little more *snugly* than she would've liked, the boots that fit perfectly, much to her surprise, and ended roughly at mid-thigh, and the shirt which she had cinched round her waist with the aid of a belt she'd found behind the curtain. It also provided a convenient place for her to attach her gun. She had rolled the sleeves of the shirt up past her elbows to prevent them from falling over her hands, and had completed the look with the black waistcoat, the only two buttons still left on it having been done-up. Scully was fairly pleased that she'd found it, as it not only served to disguise the fact that she was wearing a black bra underneath the white shirt, but also hid her gun from view, where it flared out slightly at the back.

"Well?" she finally spoke, pulling Jack out of the mini-trance he had fallen into. "Will this do?"

"Hmmm," Jack began, idly stroking his beard with his right hand, apparently thinking. "Well, in my humble opinion, if I would be permitted to so comment, you're missing something."

"What the hell could possibly be missing? I feel like a bad extra in an Errol Flynn movie!" Jack shot her a perplexed look, serving to remind her that she wasn't in the 20th century anymore. "Never mind. What, in your expert opinion, is missing from my outfit?" Jack smiled, and reached behind him to grab something off the counter.

"Well, seeing as you asked so nicely..." he held his hand out to reveal a turquoise scarf, shaking it in front of her face.

"And what exactly am I meant to do with it?"

"Oh do allow me." In a second Jack was upright. He placed his hands on Scully's shoulders, whirling her round so she had her back to him. Before she had time to protest he grabbed hold of both ends of the scarf, placing it on her head and tying it in a knot that rested just behind her right ear. Finally he lifted her short red hair out from underneath the scarf, allowing it to fall into place, then span her back round to face him again.

"Absolutely perfect, if I do say so myself. You know, you may just pass for a pirate yet." All Scully could do was shake her head, as the woman walked past her and behind the curtain, apparently going to retrieve the clothes Scully had left in there.

"I just have one last question," said Scully. Jack turned to look at her again, his attention having been diverted by the woman's departure. "How are we supposed to pay for this? I don't have any money."

Jack grinned, throwing his arm around her shoulder, shooting a quick glance behind them at the curtain.

"Well, let's just say it's not so much a case of having money as it is a case of being surreptitious." Without another word he shoved Scully out of the shop and down the street, the door closing with a slight tinkling of the bell above it.


	6. Chapter 6

Mulder was awoken by the distinct sensation that someone was touching him. At first he thought it might be a dream, until the first hand was joined by several others, tugging insistently at his trousers. Opening one eye slowly he saw approximately five men going through his pockets, pulling out their contents as they went. Next to him on the floor lay his badge, handcuffs, cell phone (which had been take apart none too carefully) and a handful of sunflower seeds. Opening the other eye, Mulder noticed that one of the men had managed to unclip his gun from its holster. Panicking slightly he sat up in one abrupt motion, causing the men to jump back a little.

"Hey buddy, I think you should let me have that, don't you?"

The man smiled menacingly, allowing Mulder a good view of the copious gaps in his teeth.

"Oh do yer now?"

Mulder nodded and smiled politely, holding out his hand to take the gun. The man exchanged looks with his associates before turning back to Mulder, taking a step nearer.

"So you want yer gun back huh?"

Mulder nodded. "Well that's too bad cause it's my gun now."

"Look just hand it over ok," Mulder replied forcefully, heaving himself up on his knees. Without warning the man swung his arm back, bringing it round and connected the butt of the gun with Mulder's jaw, which was still throbbing from the blow dealt by Scully earlier. The force of the impact sent him sprawling backwards, cracking his head against the wooden wall. Dazed, he reached up and put a hand to his mouth, wiping away a trickle of blood that had started running down his chin. Suddenly the man was in his face. He grabbed Mulder by the shirt, wrenching him forward.

"You may wanna learn some manners and watch that attitude if you're going to survive on this ship me lad." He let go with a shove which landed Mulder once again on his back.

"Ship? Goddammit!" Mulder muttered, cursing under his breath as he felt the familiar wave of nausea that accompanied sea sickness wash over him. He smiled wryly, gradually growing paler and paler as he lifted himself up onto his elbows.

"I don't suppose any of you guys have a Dramamine on you do you?" The men exchanged confused looks before one launched forward and kicked Mulder sharply in the ribs, causing him to fall back to the floor, groaning in pain and clutching his side. The same man then proceeded to rain a barrage of blow and kicks down on him. Writhing around in pain Mulder tried unsuccessfully to shield his body from the assault. After a few minutes a second man stepped forward. Fearing the worst, Mulder braced himself for another beating. But much to his surprise the man placed his hand on the arm of Mulder's attacker, ceasing his movements. They exchanged looks and the second man jerked his head over her shoulder saying,

"Better stop that mate. There're ladies present." Mulder craned his neck to look past the men. Sure enough two women had indeed entered the room. As they stepped into the dim light he recognized them as the two girls Jack had been talking to in the bar, although their clothes were stained with dirt and possibly blood. Bruises peppered their arms and the skin around their wrists was raw; the dark haired one had the makings of a good shiner, while the red head had a deep gash above her left eye. They stood just outside the group of men, arms folded across their chests and stony expressions on their faces. His attacker then turned his attention back to Mulder, standing over his battered form.

"Best behave yourself matey," he warned, giving Mulder one last hard kick to the stomach before leaving the room, the rest of the men following closely behind.

*

Once the door was closed, Mulder heaved a sigh and then winced, clutching his ribs. He was no doctor but he was pretty sure they were badly bruised, if not broken. He glanced back over at the two girls and noticed that the dark haired one had started to walk towards him, talking to her friend as she moved.

"Mira Yelena es tu novio! [Look Yelena it's your boyfriend!]"

Yelena blushed furiously before replying,

"Cállate Soledad [Shut up Soledad]." Soledad however seemed to disagree. She continued chuckling the rest of the way across the room and was still doing so as she knelt down beside Mulder. Closer to, he noticed a scattered set of finger print bruises around her neck, under her jaw. By this time Yelena had moved also and was hovering slightly behind Soledad.

"¿Piensas que esta bien [Do you think he's ok]?"

"No estoy segura [I'm not sure]," Soledad replied, reaching out a hand to touch Mulder's face. He flinched, expecting her to hit him. She simply laughed, grasping his chin gently and tilting it towards the light to get a better look at the injuries he had sustained during the beating.

"Esta bien señor, le ayudare. Yelena necesito agua, un paño húmedo y todo eso por favor [It's ok sir, I'm going to help you. Yelena I need water, a damp cloth and everything else please]." Yelena complied with the request, crossing to the other side of the room and bringing back a bowl of water and a cloth, which she passed to Soledad before kneeling down on the other side of Mulder. For the first time since they entered the room Yelena spoke directly to Mulder, while Soledad busied herself with the task of cleaning him up. "Así que, ¿como esta venido aquí [So how did you get here]?" Mulder stared blankly at her then winced as Soledad hit a sore spot on his face. Yelena paused for a second before repeating the question.

"I'm sorry I don't understand. My Spanish is pretty much non-existent," Mulder explained, trying his best to hold still so as not to impede Soledad's work. Yelena laughed and reverted to English.

"Well why didn't you say something? I asked you how you got here. Let's face it, you hardly look like you belong in this place."

"It's… complicated."

"Try us amigo, we might just surprise you," Soledad piped up as she got to her feet, wiping her hands on her trousers. Mulder took a deep breath before he began.

"My partner and I were investigating some missing person's reports in Haiti at an institute that was conducting time travel experiments when we were transported back in time to this place." Soledad stared at him while Yelena folded her arms in front of her chest and raised an eyebrow, an expression that automatically made him think of Scully. He wondered briefly where she was, what she was doing, and even if she'd realized he was gone. Yelena's voice broke through his reverie, bringing him back to the present.

"You don't honestly expect us to believe that do you?" Mulder shrugged.

"Don't worry about it. I'm used to not being believed. It's actually rather comforting." Before Yelena could reply the door swung open and banged loudly against the wall. The girls span round to face the large figure entering the room.

"Halcón," Soledad whispered, just loud enough for Mulder to hear, as she and Yelena backed away slowly from the approaching man. He stepped forward into the light and smiled down at Mulder.

"Well, let's take a look at the new recruit then shall we?"

*

Meanwhile, aboard Jack's ship, The Endurance…

Following Jack and Scully's heated argument and hasty exit from the clothes shop, they had finally managed to leave port aboard the ship. Gibbs busied himself swabbing the deck while Jack remained at the wheel steering the course, something that was proving to be a bone of contention between him and Scully.

"Don't give me that!" Scully fumed. "I saw your compass earlier, it doesn't even point north! How do I know that we're following the Adversary if you're incapable of simple navigation?!" Jack turned and shot her an indignant look.

"Well first of all I'd like to point out that this is not simple navigation, it is in fact **very** complicated and certainly not something that a mere woman such as yourself would be capable of. And second of all, it would be noticeably less complicated if the captain were left to his duties!"

Scully's eyes narrowed at the words 'mere woman', feminist indignance flaring inside her, strengthening her fury.

"Your only duty is to catch up with that ship so we can rescue Mulder! It's your fault he got kidnapped-"

"Pressganged," Jack interrupted, angering her further.

"Whatever. It's your fault her was **taken** in the first place." Jack regarded her for a moment, leaning casually against the wheel. It was all Scully could do to control the urge to knock him on his ass.

"Actually as I seem to recall, you were the one with the explosive temper whose fist ended up in dear Mulder's face, thereby forcing his entry into the Gin and Turtle and who then abandoned him to his deeply regrettable fate. And if it weren't for me and my ship, you would be stranded in Tortuga, unable to pursue him now, so we'll have less of the accusations, savvy?" Scully stood still for a moment glaring at him, jaw clenched in rage, while she contemplated how incredibly satisfying it would be to pull out her gun and shoot him on the spot. However, upon further reflection, she decided it probably wasn't the wisest thing to do. Instead she chose to turn on her heel and stalk off toward the bow of the ship, the turquoise ends of her bandana trailing in her wake.

Jack huffed out a frustrated breath before turning to Gibbs, who had been cleaning nearby and had heard the whole exchange.

"Bloody women. This is why we never have them on board. More trouble than they're bloody worth!" Both men fell silent for a few moments, lost in their own thoughts. It was Gibbs who spoke first.

"You know, you're going to have to say sorry."

"What the bloody hell for?!" Jack fumed.

"If you don't," Gibbs explained slowly, as if talking to a rather stolid child. "Then the rest of this trip will be a living hell. You know how womenfolk can be." Jack was quiet for a moment, apparently recalling such an incident, before replying.

"You're right." He then headed in the direction of the bow, leaving Gibbs shaking his head in exasperation.

*

Scully stood at the bow of the ship leaning her elbows on the wood and making a cradle for her chin with her hands. She gazed out at the clear blue waves of the sea, allowing them to calm her temper and return her to a more amiable mood. She let Jack's words play over in her head as the breeze rustled her hair, whipping strands across her face. Maybe he had a point, she thought. It was technically her fault. She'd allowed her annoyance with Mulder to cloud her judgment of the situation and left him alone. Maybe if she hadn't been so stubborn and gone back earlier, or, better still, not left him at all, the situation may have turned out completely different. Had their positions been reversed, she knew for certain that Mulder never would've done what she had. The sound of a throat being cleared behind her broke through her thoughts. Scully whirled round and, on seeing Jack stood there, was immediately defensive.

"You must be brave, risking my 'explosive temper'"

"Ah… well," Jack began, stumbling over his words a little. "After a lot of… careful consideration… taking into account all contributing factors… and o' course, exceptional circumstances…"

"He's sorry," Gibbs translated as he walked past, mop and bucket in hand. Jack glared at him for a moment before returning his attention to Scully.

"Well… I suppose it is possible that my… intentions could be described as-"

"Apology accepted," Scully interrupted with a small smile. "Thank you. I guess I owe you an apology too. It was wrong of me to blame you for what happened to Mulder." Jack was silent for a moment, not quite knowing how to respond, having never really received an apology before. However he recovered rapidly.

"Good! Well, never mind then eh?" With this he turned and walked away from her, passing Gibbs and pulling out a bottle of rum from a hiding place near the wheel, before uncorking it and taking a deep draught.

"Well done Jack," Gibbs said, appearing beside him. Jack stopped in mid swallow, still rather embarrassed and not knowing exactly what to say. With a sudden movement, Jack grabbed the mop that was leaning against the side of the ship and thrust it roughly into Gibbs' hands.

"Back on deck you scabrous dog!" he bellowed. Gibbs grinned.

"Aye-aye Cap'n," he replied, resuming his task. Jack stormed off down the deck to his cabin, obviously wanting to be alone.

"Bloody women," he muttered, slamming the door shut loudly.


	7. Chapter 7

After his brief introductory remark to Mulder, Captain Halcón turned his attentions to Soledad and Yelena. "¡Volved a trabajar! [Get back to work!]"

The girls exchanged irritated looks but complied, leaving the room and closing the door behind them. He took a step closer, allowing Mulder the opportunity to get a better look at him. He was a fairly tall man with a dark goatee, although nowhere near as extravagantly styled as Jack's had been. He had long black curly hair, which Mulder suspected was a wig, and gave him a slight Captain Hook-esque look. He wore a long dark green frock coat; knee high boots with big buckles on the front and in his hands carried a large hat, which he'd had to remove to allow him to pass comfortably through the door. He glanced down at Mulder, casting him a despairing look before bending down and rifling through Mulder's things. He stopped as he found Mulder's badge. Straightening, he opened it.

"Agent Fohss Moldeh."

"Yes sir," Mulder replied. "FBI." Halcón looked confused for a moment, then threw the badge over his shoulder, where it landed a few feet away on the floor.

"My men have just given me your rather interesting gun," Halcón continued, speaking with an almost comical Spanish accent and pulling the aforementioned item from his coat pocket,. Mulder made a move to reach for it, but quickly pulled his hand back. He'd had enough of a beating after trying to get it back from the normal crew so he was sure he wouldn't like the consequences for trying to retrieve it from the captain of the ship. "Where did you get it from?"

"America… Sir," Mulder answered.

At this Halcón looked mildly impressed.

"America? You're reasonably well travelled then. You might be some use after all." With this he crossed to the door, opened it and shouted, "Gillpoyo!"

Among the noise drifting down from the rest of the ship, a gruff voice called "Aye, Cap'n!", and heavy feet could be heard hammering down stairs towards the door. Mulder gulped.

The man who appeared could not have contrasted Halcón's appearance more if he tried: next to the captain's lean, stately form, Gillpoyo was thick-set and muscular, his skin rough and weathered, an ugly scar cutting across his right cheek. He lacked the frock coat that Halcón's other officers all seemed to have, wearing only a dirty off-white shirt with his tattered brown trousers. While Halcón had an air of cunning and underhand manipulation, Gillpoyo was clearly his no-nonsense asset, clearing the way of anything out of line. The hardened skin on his knuckles said as much.

Mulder unconsciously brought his knees up in a defensive posture, aware that if anyone were to attack him again, this would be the man.

"Gilpoyo," Halcón continued, gesturing toward Mulder, "This is your new foremast hand. Find him some work with the others. It's your job to beat him into shape." Halcón turned to leave but, pausing in thought for a moment, faced Gilpoyo once more. "But if he tries anything stupid, I want to know." Putting his hat under his arm, he spun round with a twirl of coattails and strutted out of the room, disappearing up the stairs.

"Come on then you," Gilpoyo spoke in a gruff voice, grabbing Mulder by the scruff of the neck. Mulder however, unable to control his nausea any longer, lurched abruptly forward and proceeded to empty the contents of his stomach all over the floor.

*

"Don't be so dramatic," Gilpoyo barked. "You'll soon find your sea legs." Reclaiming his hold on the back of Mulder's shirt, Gilpoyo unceremoniously shoved him up the stairs and onto the main deck. Snatching a mop from its position leaning against a railing, he thrust it into Mulder's hands.

"Alright, now swab the deck!" Mulder stared back blankly. Gilpoyo sighed in frustration before spying Yelena a few feet away. Roughly taking hold of her arm, he dragged her to where Mulder was standing.

"You can show him what to do, you're supposed to be doing it anyway."

Yelena stared defiantly back.

"I thought I was supposed to be tightening the rigging."

"I've already told you there's no way I'm trusting you with the rigging after the little stunt you pulled last time." Yelena looked over at Soledad, who was also swabbing the deck nearby, and exchanged small smiles while Mulder simply looked on, utterly confused by the whole situation. Seeing the look, Gilpoyo grabbed a mop and bucket and threw them at Yelena.

"Just get on with it," he ordered before walking away, leaving them to their task.

"Gilipollas," Yelena muttered, just loud enough for Soledad to hear, before the pair started chuckling softly to themselves. Mulder glanced at Yelena, noticing a large red mark on the arm that now held her mop.

"Are you ok?" he asked. Off her confused look, he gestured at her arm, prompting her to look down. Capturing his gaze again, she simply shrugged.

"You think that a little shove is something to worry about? You've clearly never served under Halcón's officers before." Mulder raised his eyebrows, a look of slight shock passing over his face. Yelena gave him a wry smile, dipping her mop into the bucket of water at her feet and motioned for Mulder to do the same.

"Come on, let's get this over with."

Chapter Eight

Night had fallen over the seas. Aboard The Endurance, Jack had left Gibbs in charge of the navigation and retreated to his cabin or, more accurately, his stash of rum. Two empty bottles lay on the table before him, and he was just uncorking his third when there was a soft knock at the door.

"Come in!" he called, and the door swung open to reveal Scully standing there. Jack straightened as best he could after consuming two bottles of rum and smiled broadly at her.

"And what can I do for you at this late hour my dear?" Before she could answer he continued, "Come in! Come in and shut the door." Scully shot him a slightly puzzled expression before complying, moving to stand closer to the table.

"I was just wondering where it is that I'm supposed to sleep." He leered at her before replying.

"Well, you could always share my hammock." Off her look he wiped the leer off his face and tried a different approach.

"Sit down," he gestured wildly in the general direction of the chair opposite him, "and have some rum." Apprehensively, not knowing exactly where this was heading, Scully crossed to the chair and sat down, folding her hands in front of her and resting them on the wooden surface.

"Here," Jack offered her the bottle and after a moments pause she took it, tipping her head back and taking a long swig, setting it down again once she was finished. Jack stared at her.

"What?" she asked, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Nothing, nothing, you just don't look like the type who should be able to drink rum like that." Scully smiled slightly.

"Well I am Irish. Being able to drink is kind of a rite of passage in my family." Jack grinned.

"In that case, I think you and I may just get along."

*

A while later, two more bottles lay spent on the table between them. Scully didn't like to admit it, but she was feeling rather drunk, something she thought probably wasn't a good thing to share with her companion, himself swaying in his chair.

"So," she began, her words slurring slightly at the ends, although this was imperceptible to Jack. "What exactly makes The Adversary such a notorious ship?" He took a swig from the bottle, passing it back to Scully before replying.

"Well, in a word, the captain. Halcón is one of the mastiest… neanest… he's not a very mice man." Scully chuckled at Jack's inability to pronounce the words. It was to be expected though, given that he'd had a two-bottle head start on her, that he be more inebriated.

"And is this knowledge," Scully continued between swigs, "from reputation only or from first hand experience?" Jack paused, closing his eyes, and for a moment she thought he'd fallen asleep until he opened them and leaned forward, gesturing for the rum.

"Well, being a captain myself I've never actually had the opportunity to sherve under him, but he sherved under me before…" he stopped suddenly, apparently reminiscing. Scully gave him a moment before coaxing him gently, much in the manner as she would a witness on an investigation.

"Before…?"

"It's a fairly long shtory."

"We've got time," she prodded. "And rum," she added with a smile which Jack returned. He straightened himself up, leaning forward on his elbows.

"Alright. You twishted my arm. A few years back I was captain of a ship called the Black Pearl. She was the most notorious ship in the Caribbean." He nodded at Scully, alluding to their conversation before they had left port. "We were sailing in search of treasure. Halcón was hard working, but far too ambitious, to the point of obshession. In the end I wa shick of it, sho I ordered him off my ship. Shortly after that, the resht of my crew, led by my firsht mate, mutinied, left me on an island and went off in search of the treashure. Halcón found out and blamed me for making him mish out on hisshare of the treashure. He'sh hated me ever since." Jack paused, allowing Scully time to digest the story and also giving himself time to take another swig of rum.

"Pershonally, I think this may be the contributing factor to him shtealing two membersh of my crew." Scully nodded.

"That shounds…" she stopped and smiled wryly at her error before correcting herself. "… sounds like a possibility."

"Glad you agree darling."

He put the bottle to his lips once more, tipping it back to take a drink. When none came out he leaned back farther, then farther still until the chair slid out from under him and he landed unceremoniously on the floor with a crash. Shocked but suppressing a laugh, Scully leaned across the table, peering over the edge in time to see Jack scramble back onto his seat. He held the bottle out in front of him, staring at it, as if sheer thought alone would refill it. When this didn't happen he pouted slightly, grabbing at each of the other bottles one by one, tipping them upside down and becoming more and more concerned as each of them turned out to be empty as well. Dropping the last of the bottles back on the table he returned his gaze to Scully, looking at her seriously.

"Why is the rum always gone?" He rose from his chair, apparently to go in search of more rum, only to stagger around before latching onto the edge of the table for support.

"I think that's why," Scully replied with a giggle that got Jack laughing too. "I think you'd better sit down. I'll go find more rum." Jack complied as she moved towards the door. She was a little unsteady on her feet she noticed, much to her chagrin. Scully was halfway out the door when Jack called after her.

"Try near the wheel. I ushually keep some there for emergencies, and this would indeed constitute a rum emergency." She chuckled and exited the room, returning a few minutes later, grinning as she held up another full bottle.

"Ah rum. Where would I be without you?" Jack reached for the bottle as Scully resumed her place at the table, taking a long draught before passing it over to him.

"So," he began, setting the rum down. "You shtill have yet to exshplain how exactly you came to be in jolly ol' Tortuga, when it'sh obvious that neither you nor your dear companion… wasshis name…"

"Mulder," Scully supplied.

"That's it! Neither you nor your dear companion Mulder look like you belong there."

"It's … complicated."

"We've got time," Jack said, shooting her words from earlier back at her, making her smile.

"Yea, I guess we have. Well, Mulder and I had been sent to Haiti to investigate the disappearances of several employees of the Atrius Institute there when we stumbled… or rather, Mulder stumbled upon a room containing time-space experiments. We were sucked in and transported back in time to Tortuga." Jack stared at her wide-eyed.

"Sherioushly?" Scully gave a sharp nod and took another swig of rum. He made a noise that indicated he was impressed, but she didn't really hear it as she had closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair, trying to stop the room from spinning and failing miserably. Internally, Scully half-heartedly berated herself for getting so drunk with an incredibly strange man she had only just met, but those thoughts soon subsided as she felt the rum quickly taking effect, and she slipped gently away into inebriated oblivion.

The next morning Scully awoke to a vague pounding sensation in her ears. As she shifted and attempted to open her eyes, she became painfully aware of the fact that the pounding was coming from inside her own head. Her mouth felt dry and she briefly wondered whether that was what it felt like in the Sahara dessert, before she raised a hand and lightly rested it on her forehead. This move turned out to be a very bad one, as it only served to intensify the already horrendous pounding around her brain. She groaned softly in protest against the pain… and then froze as she felt two arms tighten their grip on her waist. Slowly Scully opened her eyes, squinting against the bright light that was pouring in through a window. She blinked a few times, adjusting them to the glare of the sun, before glancing down to see two large arms clasped securely around her. Her first instinct was to assume that the arms belonged to Mulder, that was until she noticed the tattoo and the letter 'P' that was branded into the flesh. Suddenly memories of the past few days flooded over her, in particular those of the previous evening. With a loud gasp she jerked sharply away, trying to extricate herself from the person behind her. However, all this served to do was to tip the hammock she and her companion were lying in, throwing its occupants onto the floor with a crash. Scully closed her eyes and swore, rubbing the back of her head where she'd cracked it on the wooden floor. A loud groan sounded from above her, and she became distinctly aware of a heavy weight pinning her to the floor. Her eyes flew open to be confronted by the face of Captain Jack Sparrow grimacing down at her.

"I think you and I need to have a little conversation about your ideas on how to wake a sleeping man my dear," Jack chuckled and then frowned, suddenly becoming aware of the pounding inside his own head. Scully opened her mouth, about to tell him to get off of her, when the door to the cabin swung open and Gibbs entered, a worried expression on his face.

"What happened? I heard a crash and…" he stopped mid-sentence, noticing the two in what could only be described as a "compromising position" on the floor. Before either could say anything in their defense, Gibbs simply smiled.

"I guess I'll come back later when you aren't so… busy." And with that he turned on his heel and left the room, closing the door softly behind him.

"Get off me NOW!" Scully hissed through clenched teeth. "Or I'll make sure that next time you sing a sea shanty, it'll be in soprano!" Jack gulped; from the look on her face he knew she wasn't kidding, then quickly scrambled off her and onto his feet. He extended his hand to offer her assistance but Scully was already standing and brushing the dust from her clothes.


	8. Chapter 8

Meanwhile, aboard the Adversary...

"Mulder? Are you listening?" Yelena waved a hand in front of her pupil's eyes. His expression was distant and decidedly queasy as he stared into the horizon.

"Hello?" Yelena tried again. With an apparently great effort, Mulder turned towards her. She may not have had as much medical expertise as Soledad, but Yelena was pretty sure his skin should not have been that colour. She put a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. "Are you alright?"

He nodded, unconvincingly.

"Yeah, I'm great. Sorry, what were you asking?" He swayed slightly and gripped the rail as the ship rocked on the energetic sea. Yelena put her hand on one of the rope knots.

"I was asking you which rope this is."

Mulder furrowed his brow as with great mental exertion. "Which rope?"

"Yes. As in, where does it lead?"

"Oooh, where does it lead...uh..." Mulder tipped his head back and gazed up at the endless miles of loops and knots and rigging. "Uuhhh..."

A wave hit the side of the ship. The Adversary lurched, taking Mulder's stomach with it. He collapsed onto the deck and made no effort to get up again. It had been a long morning.

Yelena was in the middle of a sigh, mostly one of pity, when she caught sight of Soledad strolling towards them with a flask in one hand and scrap of cloth in the other. The corner of Yelena's mouth curled – she knew what was coming.

"Buenos. O...buen_as _[Good morning, or...afternoon]," she greeted her friend, trying to remember if the noon bell had rung yet or not. A quick glance at the sky confirmed that it must have. "Sí, buenas."

"Hola," replied Soledad. She looked down at Mulder. "How are you doing? Still struggling to find your sea-legs?"

Mulder frowned, his pride aching, but nodded weakly.

"Here," Soledad, having wrenched out the stopper, handed him the flask. "Drink some of this. It'll probably make you throw up but you'll feel better afterwards."

Mulder eyed the flask apprehensively, but for want of an alternative, took it.

"You seem very casual about making me spew," he commented dryly.

Soledad shrugged. "Well, no point...what's that phrase you have? Beating around the bush."

Mulder had lost the will to speak, but his expression said, 'true enough'.

"Here," added Soledad, offering him a hand up. Yelena took his other arm and together they hoisted him onto his feet, taking care to get him facing the ocean. He looked again suspiciously at the bottle.

"So what, I just swallow a bit and all my woes are cured?"

Soledad considered momentarily. "You could say that."

"Alrighty then, here goes." He fixed his lips around the narrow neck of the flask and poured its unknown contents into his mouth with a generous flick of the hand. There was a pause. Yelena watched him with amused curiosity; Soledad simply stood holding out the cloth, having seen the effects of her remedy many, many times. She plucked the flask from Mulder's hand and patted him on the back when the inevitable occurred.

Yelena looked away, and suddenly heard the heavy clunking of familiar boots approaching from behind her. She glanced over her shoulder and sure enough, there was Gillpoyo.

"Oi, Soledad, cuidado [watch out]," she said quietly.

"And what's all this?" he demanded as he strode toward them, voice gruff and grumpy as ever.

"Lay off it, Gillpoyo, he's just a bit seasick," Yelena replied sharply.

"Oh is he? Just a bit seasick?" The officer grabbed Mulder by the shoulder and tore him from the rail. "Or just playing the invalid?"

Yelena stepped between the two men. "He's not faking. Christ, Gillpoyo, he's never been on a ship before."

Gillpoyo snatched a handful of Yelena's hair and threw her onto the deck. "Don't try and get between me and my duty, little _señorita_." His iron glance was turned on Mulder. "Travelled to America without going on a ship? What an incredible achievement."

Mulder was trying hard to keep his balance, and his cool. "I've tried to explain to people, they just don't understand-"

"I understand perfectly well!" Roared Gillpoyo, dealing Mulder a single blow that sent him sprawling. He placed a worn, dirty leather boot in the centre of Mulder's chest, and lowered his voice to a growl. "You dare lie to me again, son, and believe you me you'll end up just like the others: at the boson's mercy." He turned as if to leave, but snapped his head to catch Mulder's eyes. "You should probably know that he has none."

Satisfied that his lesson had been learnt, he spun sharply and made to return below decks. His path, however, was blocked. He looked down at Yelena through narrowed eyes.

"Out of my way." His voice was dangerously quiet. She was unphased, and he was a little taken aback when her tone matched his.

"You know perfectly well he'll never get anywhere if you beat him into the ground every time you see him." Her lip was bleeding. He sneered.

"If you'd rather it was you, please inform me. As things stand, he needs to know this ship like the back of his hand by tomorrow and if he doesn't, I'll be blaming you. As for _you_," he stamped over to Soledad, who was helping Mulder up, "you little Spanish flowers need to see less of each other. You'll be in the crow's-nest until the next dog-watch. Oh, and this time, when you see a ship full o' plunder, you'll be _letting us know_, not watchin it sail away into the sunset and robbing the captain of his treasure. And you can wipe that smirk off your face." Evidently deciding she wasn't going to, he wiped it off himself, with the back of his hand. She shot him a fiery, defiant glare, but could read his mood and knew it would be a waste of her time to retaliate any further.

"'sta luego, chiquita," she said to Yelena with a sigh. Glancing at Mulder she added, "Cuídate de él [look after him]."

Yelena smiled. "No te inquietes [don't worry]."

Gillpoyo's fuse was almost gone; he had no time for chatting.

"I said IN THE CROW'S-NEST!"

Soledad rolled her eyes. "Alright, alright, I'm going, cálmate [calm down]."

He watched her swagger over to the rigging, and only when fully convinced that she was indeed climbing and not intending to come straight down again as soon as his back was turned, did he leave.

"You alright?" Yelena asked Mulder. It seemed to him that he'd spent all day being asked that, and every time his answer was the same.

"Yeah I'm fine." He straightened his posture. "Actually I do feel a little better."

Yelena grinned. "That'll be the gunk you swallowed."

"What the hell's in it?"

"God only knows. Which is just as well 'cos I don't think I want to."

Mulder could feel his head settling back to normal, and was starting to wonder something. "What did he mean when he said 'just like the others'? Who are the others, the rest of the crew?"

Yelena paused, regarding him. "You haven't met them, have you?"

"Who?"

"The others. A coupla men, we don't know where they came from, just popped up out of the blue. Kinda like you. And they keep talking about the same things..."

"What things?"

"The kind of things you say. All that crazy stuff you go on about. Flying between countries and guns the size of your hand and all that."

It was clear that behind Mulder's knitted brow, a very large and important penny was dropping.

"What, they know about flying and handguns and – oh, please please tell me they know what the FBI is..."

Yelena thought for a moment. "FBI. Yeah, they might have mentioned it."

"And they're on this ship?"

Yelena nodded.

Relief washed over Mulder with such force that it could have knocked him over. "Oh, well take me to their leader."

*****

"Hey Redlegs," said Yelena, to a tall, scruffy ginger man coiling a line, "have you seen Van Müller around?"

Redlegs turned round at the sound of her voice, and jumped back slightly at the sight of Mulder.

Yelena sniggered. "Oh, don't mind him. He's new."

A knowing smile passed across Redlegs' weather-beaten face. "Van Müller did you say?" - Yelena nodded. - "Not sure, last time I saw him he was going below. Can't say where he is now."

Yelena looked towards the stairs leading down beneath the deck, and shrugged.

"Well, one way to find out. Come on." She grabbed Mulder's sleeve and pulled him along. He stumbled slightly trying to keep up with her. She cast a cautious glance around the dark interior before proceeding. The level below the main deck was dingy and dusty; Mulder's eyes failed to adjust after the bright sunlight outside. He heard laughter from somewhere in a corner, and shook his sleeve free of Yelena's grasp indignantly. He had, however, overestimated his ability to find his way independently, and a few seconds later couldn't help but rush forward and grab onto her sleeve. She didn't turn, but grinned to herself.

Her pace was swift and self-assured, though she still glanced cautiously round several corners before turning them.

"Where the hell are we going?" Coughed Mulder, as they descended further into the bowels of the ship and the air thickened.

"I'm pretty sure I know where Van Müller went. He's been made a navigator but his friends weren't quite so lucky."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Yelena said nothing, only looked at him over her shoulder with raised eyebrows and an expression that said 'see for yourself'.

Mulder gazed past her and saw what could only be described as a set of primitive jail cells. Three men were inside one, and were currently huddled close to the bars where a fourth man stood on the outside. They were talking in a low whisper, obviously fearful of discovery.

"That would be the brig," Yelena explained in a whisper.

One of the men incarcerated behind the bars glanced over, suddenly noticing Mulder and Yelena. His eyes grew wide and he gestured, alerting the other men to their presence.

"What is this, a prison?" Mulder asked incredulously.

"Well… it's close enough, I guess."

"Who are you?" the one Mulder could only assume was Van Müller asked, peering at them. They took a step forward. "Is that you Yelena?"

"Yea it's me. I have someone here who would like to talk to you."

Van Müller eyes Mulder cautiously.

"What for?"

"Fernand Van Müller?" Asked Mulder, approaching him. He was asking more out of courtesy than anything else; he was already certain he had the right man.

Van Müller nodded. "Yes, yes that's me. Who wants to know?"

"My name is Fox Mulder, I'm with the FBI. I got here somehow while I was investigating your disappearance from Haiti, the Atrius Institute."

The Austrian stared at him, wide-eyed.

"FBI? But…what? I don't…how did you find me here?"

Mulder chuckled. "Well, I dunno, you tell me. Luck?" This new development had revived his spirits – he was starting to see the world through light-hearted eyes again.

"Well, I- I mean, _we_," started Van Müller, gesturing to those in the cell, "have no idea what happened either."

"I'm assuming that means you fellows are David Benson, Ken Stewart and Edward Bosworth?" All three men nodded as Mulder said their names. "From what I've managed to piece together, you were conducting space-time experiments at the Atrius Institute. I'm guessing they were successful. I'm also guessing that, somehow or another you guys, along with Maria Rodriguez and Bette Wolfe, managed to get yourself sucked through here, in pretty much the same manner as my partner and I."

"That's right," Benson cut in. He had tousled hair and looked jumpy. "We don't know what went wrong, me and Ken were just there one minute and gone the next! We, uh, we found these guys," – here he made a jerking motion with his arm – "once we'd already got here. I guess you could say we bonded pretty quickly, y'know, when we realized it'd happened to all of us."

"What about Maria Rodriguez and Bette Wolfe? " Mulder asked. "What happened to them?"

He shrugged. "No idea. We never saw them. Didn't know they were missing as well 'til you said it just then."

Mulder rolled his eyes, cursing silently. _Great. Of course you've never heard of them. That would make my job far too easy._

"Hey," Bosworth interjected, a hopeful look on his face, "don't suppose there's any chance of you getting us out of here is there?"

Yelena, who was leaning casually against the iron grating, eyed him. "There's not much chance of that, amigo mío – for now he's just as much a prisoner as you."

"Speaking of which, what are you doing in the – what's this called? The brig?" Inquired Mulder.

Bosworth shot Benson a glance with the distinct remnants of an irritation which he had not yet managed to suppress. "Well, Dave thought…"

"I thought there might be some chance of us getting back to America," Benson took over, "so I was asking around if anyone knew how to get us back, and… Well, I started saying there'd probably be some reward money in it, like, from my company or somethin' – I only meant me, you know, I wasn't trying to get the others into trouble – and then the captain took it a little too seriously I guess. He, uh, I think he's expecting to try and ransom us or something, God only knows what these Spaniards come up with-"

Yelena's head tilted, her eyebrows shooting up.

"Uh, in case you're forgetting, muchacho, _this_ Spaniard's on your side. So I'd learn when to shut your mouth."

Benson blinked nervously and twitched. "I'm, um, I'm sorry, I…" He was so on edge he was almost about to fall right off.

"Hey, it's okay," said Mulder, stepping in to try and stop Benson from having a nervous breakdown. He raised his hands diplomatically and looked between the two parties. "She knows you didn't mean anything by it, right Yelena?"

"Oh, no, of _course_ not," she replied, before turning away and muttering something in Spanish. The only recognizable word was 'cabrón'; Mulder wasn't sure what it meant but he knew it couldn't have been polite judging from her tone of voice.

Mulder decided to try and steer the conversation back on track with as much speed as possible.

"So, do you have any idea at all how we might be able to get back?"

The three in the cell looked at Van Müller, who was twisting his fingers and furrowing his brow anxiously.

"Well, I do have a theory, I've been working on it for a while. You see, mein Herr, the captain has a key…"

At that very moment, a sound like a roll of thunder came booming down the narrow stairwell.

Yelena's eyes ignited. "Mierda!" She seized Mulder's arm, "Vamos!" They set off at a run down the aisle between the cells, but had only covered a few meters when a hand grabbed Mulder by the scruff of the neck, yanking him backwards. The voice of retribution resounded with a deafening rumble.

"So! Disobeying me again, are we?" Mulder found himself flat on his back, a heavy boot on his chest. Gillpoyo's eyes blazed through the darkness. "Maybe I should have taught you a harsher lesson earlier." Moving his foot, he stamped on Mulder's stomach. Mulder howled in pain, trying to grit his teeth. Yelena jumped forward, but was back-handed with a ferocity that sent her flying backwards into the iron bars, knocking her clean unconscious.

As Mulder stared upwards, a familiar face leant over him.

"…Halcón?" He murmured. A sharp sting tore across his cheek as Halcón struck him.

"It is _Captain_ Halcón to you." He paused. "And do not speak until you are spoken to." He nodded to Gillpoyo, who raised his boot again, this time bringing it down along the side of Mulder's head. The captain's face remained expressionless. "I left discipline to you, Gillpoyo. You have not, it seems, succeeded. Correct that." He looked down one last time at Mulder, as though contemplating dispensing justice himself, but instead drew in a haughty breath and strutted back up the stairs.

As soon as he was out of sight, Gillpoyo wrenched Mulder to his feet and smashed him onto the bars. The three inside shrank back, terrified. "Humiliate me in front of the captain, will you?" He snarled, before pulling back an arm and driving it with all his might into the pit of Mulder's stomach. His victim doubled over, but was pulled upright again immediately to receive the second powerful blow. "I won't be letting that happen again." Several more punches followed before he allowed Mulder to drop to the floor, feebly clutching his stomach and coughing up blood. The onlookers turned away as Gillpoyo cracked his knuckles, but he only said:

"Back on deck in 5 minutes, you rat. If you're not there I'll come looking for you, and believe me that's the last thing you want." He was panting from the exertion and stepped back, thinking his anger had been dispersed. But Mulder, even now still not accustomed to authority, couldn't resist having the last word. He raised his head as far as he could and attempted to focus on the officer, blood dribbling down his chin.

"Well, I'm sure you could do with the exercise." The reply he received was a sharp kick in the head, knocking him into oblivion.

Van Müller, who had been gradually shrinking further and further away from the grim spectacle, was the last to be dealt with. Gillpoyo viciously snatched his arm and threw him towards the stairs.

"Back on deck, you! Don't think you're getting off any more lightly!"

And he pushed the last offender up the steps.


	9. Chapter 9

Scully stood at the bow of the ship, gazing out at the clear blue water. It had quickly become her favourite place to go and think, or sometimes simply to escape from Jack. The respite was short lived however, as she heard someone cough loudly behind her. Suppressing a sigh she gritted her teeth and turned round, pinning the culprit with a steely glare. Gibbs, who had been standing nearby tending to something, noticed the growing tension between the two and cleared his throat meaningfully.

"I think I'll just… go and see to the cannon." When he had sidled off to the middle of the deck, Jack swaggered up beside her, considered momentarily, and then began,

"Having weighed up the potential ramifications my next actions may cause, I have decided to give you a lesson on how best to defend yourself, should the need for it arise when we rescue your dear friend Mulder." Extending his arm, he offered Scully the hilt of a sword, his own still secured in its sheath at his waist. She eyed the weapon, a distinctly unimpressed look covering her features.

"Why would I need to use that when I have this?" Reaching round she removed her gun from its holster and held it out. "Last I checked, gun trumps sword." Taking a deep breath to prevent him from losing his temper, something Gibbs had advised strongly against when he'd presented this idea to Jack, he tried again.

"That pistol only has one shot. Not very useful in a battle." Completely nonplussed by his attitude, Scully pressed the catch on her gun, releasing the clip into her waiting hand. She held it up for Jack to inspect.

"Does that look like it only carries one round to you?" Off his look she continued while popping the clip back inside her gun, "Thought not. I'll stick with my own weapon thanks."

Seeing Jack was floundering, Gibbs thought now would be the best time to step in. He hurried over.

"What Jack means is… it's always a good idea to have a back-up."

Scully suddenly cracked a smile. Of course this had been Gibbs' idea.

Turning back to Jack, she took the sword from his grasp, testing the feel of it in her hand.

"When you put it that way, it might not be such a bad idea."

Jack's face resembled that of a puppy who has just realised that another in the litter is preferred to him.

Regaining his composure as quickly as he'd lost it, he began to speak.

"Alright, now we've cleared that up, let's start. I take it you don't know how to use one of these?" Just as Scully's eyes began to narrow, Jack caught sight of Gibbs over her shoulder, frantically waving his arms and shaking his head. He quickly changed tack. "What I mean is, you don't look like the sort of woman..." Gibbs' gesticulations became even fiercer than before. Jack shot him an exasperated look before shrugging his shoulders. "Have you ever used one of these before?" Scully, slightly bemused by the display she had just witness, shook her head. "Alright then, we'll go over the basics." Jack reached down to his waist and removed his sword, holding it out in front of him.

"Shall we move this down to the main deck?" Gibbs suggested. The trio reassembled themselves where there was more space, and Jack and Scully stood facing each other. Jack positioned himself in a fighting stance, sword pointing out in front of him. Scully copied wordlessly.

"Now what you have to remember about sword fighting is…" Jack paused, seemingly struggling to find the right words to explain. "The most important thing you have to know… Basically what you have to do is…" Jack shrugged, apparently giving up on his explanation. "Just react." With that he quickly raised his arm, bringing it down towards Scully's head. She gave a sharp yelp of surprise, raising her own sword above her head, blocking Jack's blow. The blades connected with a loud metallic clang.

Jack's eyebrows shot up in obvious shock.

"You know, your reflexes aren't bad for a mere wo…" The expression on Gibbs' face told Jack that it wouldn't be wise to continue his sentence in the current way, especially not when Scully was rather heavily armed. He swiftly changed tack, "…for a beginner." Scully smirked triumphantly, taking a step back.

"Ok, so now what?"

Jack paused a moment before replying, "Well, we keep practising." Jack swung his sword across and once again Scully blocked it with her own. He repeated the motion, back and forth in front of his body, and each time Scully successfully matched the blow. With every movement of his sword, Jack stepped forward causing Scully to step back in order to escape being cut. With each clash of blades, Jack forced Scully further and further back, until she had nowhere to go and was thus pinned between Jack's sword and the edge of the ship. With a sharp flick of his wrist, Jack knocked the sword from Scully's hand. It landed with a clatter on the deck. He lined the tip of the blade up with Scully's throat, about six inches away from her skin. He grinned broadly.

"While you may have good reflexes my dear, you still have a great deal to learn about the art of sword fighting." Jack glanced over his shoulder at Gibbs, shooting him a smile that left no doubt in Gibbs' mind of how pleased he was with himself. However, he made the fatal error of taking his eyes off of his opponent. The split second was all Scully needed. With one sharp movement she raised her arms above her head, latching onto the rigging and hauling herself up. She pushed off from the edge of the ship with one foot, using the other to kick the sword from Jack's hand and sending it skittering across the deck. Jack turned, a shocked expression covering his face, as Scully's boot connected firmly with his chest. This move sent Jack flying backwards, landing hard on the deck with a loud thump, winding his self in the process. She pushed off from the edge once more, this time releasing her hold on the rigging, dropping gracefully beside Jack. She removed her gun from its holster and aimed it at his head, thumbing back the safety as she did. Jack stared open mouthed, his gaze flicking between the barrel of the gun and Scully's grinning face. He could hear Gibbs chuckling somewhere behind him.

"While you may have a good knowledge of sword fighting *my dear*," Scully began, mirroring his own words to her and barely able to keep the laughter from her voice, "you still have a great deal to learn about me." With that she released the safety on her gun and reholstered it, before turning on her heels, snatching her sword from the ground and walking back towards the bow of the ship. Jack watched her go, leaning up on his elbows. Shaking his head, he let himself drop back down so he was lying flat. He raised one hand and used it to cover his eyes.

"If I'm going to survive the rest of this voyage with her, there'd best be a lot more rum on board."

*

"At the Atrius Institute in Haïti, the time machine is controlled – well, eh, how do you say, in a 'loose' sense of the word? – by Herr Arkouche. He can lock and unlock the door, and turn on apparatus. And at this end…" Van Müller paused and glanced nervously over his shoulder before turning back to the attentive faces crowded round, on both sides of the brig bars. "At this end, the portal is operated by means of a key, of which there is no copy. Even if we reach the portal itself, and that is unlikely, we will not be able to get home without this key."

"And Halcón has it, right?"

Van Müller nodded to Mulder.

"He keeps it at all times, though he does not yet know its purpose. He only knows it is connected with us, and therefore treasures it. It would be impossible to steal it."

"Well, it's also impossible to escape from this ship, but me and Yelena have done it."

Benson snorted. "Hardly achieving the impossible – you were re-captured, and have had the shit kicked out of you for it."

Soledad slumped and dropped her head onto a dejected hand. "Touché."

"Look," Ken Stewart cut in, "I'm glad you're so sure of yourself, Fernand, but if it's impossible to get to wherever the portal is, and impossible to get the key, then what the hell are we supposed to do? How do we get home? How do we even get off this God-forsaken ship?"

Van Müller scratched his growing stubble pensively. "I am working on this, mein Herr."

"Where is the portal, anyway?" Mulder pressed, impatient as ever and suffering with the ever more violent movement of the ship.

"I believe it is outside a town called Oro Negro, near the coastline, similar to the positioning of the portal in Tortuga. I was able to speak to many people before I came aboard this ship, and I am almost certain that it is there."

"Of course that's not where we're going," added Benson. "But we will be sailing past Oro Negro, right Fernie?"

Van Müller nodded confirmation. "We will be passing it today, I believe."

Benson groaned. "Fate loves to taunt me."

Mulder tried to make a comment on how little time that left them, but found himself suddenly unable to make himself heard over the din. The rolls of storm-laden thunder had been growing longer and closer during the course of the conversation, and at that moment, there was another avalanche of thunder followed by an avalanche of rain. The heavens had opened. Mulder's head shot up,

"Woah!"

Shouts came from above of "All hands on deck!", among a cacophony of names, orders and reprimands. An officer rushed past, slamming his hand on the metal grating and shouting something indistinguishable. It might have been Spanish, as although they all leapt to their feet, Soledad and Yelena rolled her eyes as they did so.

On deck, confusion reigned. The rain was gushing down in bulbous drops that pounded exposed skin and filled their eyes, and the wooden planks underfoot had become covered in a treacherous film of water. Halcón was attempting to stride majestically down the stairs onto the lower deck, though his chic was somewhat spoiled by the careful way in which he observed precisely where to place each foot and the hand that was holding his hat in place against the wind. None of the gang who had just run up from the brig saw, but he had just replaced into his inside pocket a large, bronze key, with writing in a mix of French and Creole stamped onto one side.

Soledad and Yelena were instantly dispatched to the far end of the deck, and Van Müller summoned to join the navigators. Two pirates pushed past Mulder, shoving him against the side of the ship. He needed no further agitation to flop his head over the edge and relieve himself of the sea-biscuits he had eaten earlier, clinging onto the precious wood of the ship for dear life. Gillpoyo, running up, took one despairing look and abandoned all hope of making use of him until the storm was over.

Mulder would have been comforted to know he wasn't the only one falling over – many of Halcón's crew were poorly shod, and they were worse off that those with no shoes at all, when caught in a storm. All over the deck feet were sliding, or in some cases, lifting clean off the wood when it lurched, and here and there were bodies on the floor from when such a slip had resulted in a head being cracked against something and thence unconsciousness.

It was towards one of these bodies that Halcón was striding, careful as ever in his heeled officer's shoes but striding nonetheless; a young hand almost ran into his path, and was struck forcefully aside.

"Let the captain through!"

Halcón stepped forward on the path cleared by his accompanying officer, wiping rain from his eyes, and bent over the figure before him. He seemed distracted; at the back of his mind he was concerned for his precious, valuable prisoners in the brig, and was looking for spare sailors to guard them. He kicked the pirate at his feet.

"¡Levántate! (Get up!)" There was no response other than a groan, swallowed by the roar of the storm. "¡Levántate!"

From above, he was within Soledad's line of sight as she worked at a sail which had come loose and was gathering water. Seeing him about to strike again she made a lighting-fast calculation, then gave a tug on the sail – bringing the water down onto Halcón's head, and knotting off the rope so fast it blurred before her rain-filled eyes.

Halcón's hat gave way under the weight of the cascade and tilted, at one shedding the water and inclining itself onto the wind. It lifted clean off his head and began flying along the deck; Halcón's ferocious expression vanished and he let out an effeminate shriek. He leapt forwards to pursue it. Having utterly forgotten to watch his feet, however, he tripped smartly on the semi-conscious sailor and came down, with a thud and a roll.

Behind him, Soledad swung down from her perch and caught herself in a somersault, flipping forward into a crouch just in time to see Halcón's coat flap open. From an inside pocket, the fateful key slipped out, and was tossed away by a jerk of the ship. Soledad flew after it, leap-frogging a barrel of rum and snatching it straight out of the air. Briefly she stumbled and spun round, eyes alight, to see if she had been seen: it seemed that she hadn't. Yet Halcón was back on his feet, and thrashing his way across the deck in the direction the key had gone – in other words, towards her. His accompanying offer, a fierce Kazak by the name of Karkabayev, had his eyes fixed on her as though he knew what she was up to. She froze; not panicking, but running out of ideas, with the key held firmly behind her back as she tried to push it into her sodden clothes.

A couple of metres away, Yelena turned from what she was doing and saw Soledad, with the key visible through her fingers and Halcón and Karkabayev closing in on her. She didn't understand, but when Soledad looked round and threw her a meaningfully alarmed look, she immediately grasped what was going on. She cast a quick glance around, and caught sight of a bunch of keys hanging from a pirate's waistband. Agile and stealthy as a cat, she reached out and unhooked one while he was looking the other way, and a second later was behind Soledad, relieving her of the valuable Haïtian key and slipping the newly-purloined one into her hand in its place. Having done what was necessary she disappeared, aware that her presence near Soledad would only arouse further suspicion.

Karkabayev glared down at her. "What you doing just standing there, eh?" He shouted through the storm. Halcón caught up and seized her shoulder.

"¿Dónde está la clave? (Where is the key?)"

Soledad looked at him in mock confusion. "¿La cuál? (Which one?)"

He struck her across the face. "Give it to me!"

She assumed an air of carelessness and brought up her hand. "Well I found this on the deck, don't know what it is…" He snatched the key from her and shoved it deep into his coat without wasting the time to inspect it, then glared as though to let her know he was watching her, and hurried away. Karkabayev twisted her arm behind her back and dragged her to where she was supposed to be, leaving her with a blow that drew blood from her mouth. She wiped it away with her sleeve as she watched him retreat to another part of the ship, but from behind her arm, she was smiling at his back.

Yelena fought her way across the deck, frantically searching for somewhere to hide the key before her disappearance was noticed. She could never get below; too many people would see her go down. And there was certainly nowhere on deck she could put it - it would either be dislodged before the storm was over, or worse, discovered. _Unless…_

Through the madness a figure could be seen quite plainly clinging on to the railing, alternating between huddling in a ball on the floor, and heaving over the side. He was utterly ignored by everyone who passed, officers included. Yelena grinned.

"Perfecto."

Mulder had his eyes tight shut and refused to open them when he felt a hand shake his arm.

"Eh, muchacho!" She shouted over the rain. He didn't respond, but hauled his head and shoulders up over the side. She sighed, and leaned in close towards him as though to pat him comfortingly on the back. Thus using their bodies to shield her other hand, she placed the key safely into Mulder's pocket. He was clearly oblivious to what she was doing, and no-one else seemed to be watching either. She squeezed his shoulder. "Gracias. Me has salvado. (Thanks, you've saved me)."

Before anything else could go wrong, she set off at a run back towards her appointed post, dropping Soledad a wink as she passed to let her know that - for now - everything was under control.

Aboard the _Endurance_

Jack, Scully and Gibbs were having no easier a time with the storm than the crew of the _Adversary_. Jack was at the wheel, trying desperately to keep the ship from being knocked over by the huge, relentless waves. Gibbs had climbed part way up the mast and was balancing precariously on some rope while trying to readjust the sails, while Scully was frantically attempting to prevent the cannons from rolling around the deck.

"Scully!" Gibbs' voice could barely be heard over the howling wind. "The rigging's come loose!" At his words, she dashed across deck towards the port side where she could see the rope being thrashed madly around by the gale. Scully reached for it, pushing her soaking wet hair back out of her eyes with one hand. The rope slipped from her grasp and whipped back round, catching her hard in the side of the face and sending her reeling across the floor. Blood oozed from a large gash on her cheek as she hauled herself back onto her feet and tackled the rigging for a second time, only to slip and nearly end up flying overboard and into the treacherous, churning sea below. The third time proved the charm however, and Scully grasped the rope firmly in both hands, securing it tightly back in its rightful place on the side of the ship.

She felt a slight thump as Gibbs dropped down onto the deck beside her. He caught sight of her cheek and was about to enquire after her welfare when Jack's dulcet tones were heard above the roar of the waves.

"Gibbs! Take the wheel!" Gibbs slid across the floor, struggling to keep his balance against the rough sea. When he reached the wheel Jack handed him the compass. Gibbs looked at it, confused.

"Keep to the course," Jack instructed.

"What course?" Gibbs yelled.

"Following Halcón," Jack replied, turning away.

"But Cap'n, we need to get out of this storm, else we'll be dashed to smithereens!"

"We keep to the course, we were catching up. The storm will blow over soon enough." Before Gibbs could voice anymore objections, Scully's voice carried over the howling gale.

"I need some help here!" Jack quickly turned on his heel and started to make his way across the deck to where Scully was struggling with a cannon that had broken loose again. He was half way toward her when, unbeknownst to him, a second cannon came free of its ropes and began hurtling in his direction. Scully glanced up from wiping the rain out of her eyes with her sleeve to see the gun racing at him.

"Jack! Watch out!" Her warning came in the nick of time. Jack turned, saw it and managed to leap up so that it sailed under his legs instead of into them. Realising the cannon was heading straight for the side of the ship, he launched himself after it, grabbing the ropes and pulling it to a jerking stop a mere inch from the wood. Once the cannon was secured in place, he clambered as quickly as he could to where Scully was still struggling with the other gun. Grasping the other rope he fastened it down and motioned for her to do the same. As she looked up once it was tied, Jack caught sight of the still bleeding gash on her cheek.

"You alright darling?" he shouting, pointing at her face.

"I'm fine," Scully replied, wiping the blood away with her sleeve as she stood. She would've been fine had the sea not chosen that precise moment to violently toss the ship. She stumbled, lost her balance and started to fall backwards onto the cannon. She cried out and closed her eyes, bracing herself for the impact, but felt arms catch her and halt her in mid air. Scully opened her eyes in surprise and was confronted by Jack's face inches from her own. Their gazes locked, as lightning struck in the distance.

Gibbs, observing the scene from his position at the wheel, raised his eyebrows somewhat incredulously.

Jack, unaware that he was being watched, lowered himself a little further towards Scully. Both parted their lips when…

"Cap'n! The sails!"

Jack's mouth snapped shut and he ground his jaw. He looked away and straightened.

"Thank you Mister Gibbs!" He released his hold on the now upright Scully, who pulled away a little awkwardly and hurried towards the rigging. Shooting Gibbs a dirty look over his shoulder, Jack followed to assist her.


	10. Chapter 10

After the events of the storm, Scully was physically exhausted. She'd managed to sneak away from Jack and Gibbs while they were surveying the damage that the strong winds and huge waves had inflicted on their small ship, and had sequestered herself inside the cabin to try and clean herself up. She walked over to the mirror on the wall, wiping some of the dust and grime from it with her cuff so she could see her injuries better. She winced at the sight of the large gash on her right cheek, red and angry looking; although it had long since stopped bleeding there was still dried blood around it and running down her cheek to her neck. Realising she had nothing with which to tend to her wounds, Scully turned round to go and find a cloth, jumping when she saw Jack standing by the closed door.

"I didn't hear you come in."

He swaggered towards her, a slight smile on his face. Once he was close enough to her, he held up his right hand which was holding a damp cloth.

"Thought you might need some help darling."

She shot him a stern look, grabbing the cloth from his hand before he could object.

"Thank you for your concern, but I'm a trained medical doctor. I think I can handle this myself."

At the words 'medical doctor' Jack's eyes widened as he inclined his head slightly.

"You're a what? Sorry?" Scully rolled her eyes and turned back to the mirror, bringing the cloth up to her face as she did.

"I'm a doctor." She started when his image appeared in the mirror next to her own, then glared as she noticed his grin. "What's so funny about that?"

"Nothing sweetheart." She tensed slightly at his term of endearment. "You just don't seem the type." At this remark Scully whirled angrily round to face him, taking a step back as she realized he was closer than she'd anticipated.

"Not the type?! What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Well, I'm no expert, I've only ever met two witch doctors in my life…"

"Witch doctor?" she replied indignantly. "I didn't say witch doctor, I said medical doctor."

"Wait, do you mean physician?"

"Well, yes, if you want to call it that."

Jack laughed. "That's funny love, but if you didn't want me to touch your face, all you had to do was say."

"It's not an excuse! I am a doctor!"

Jack regarded her uncertainly as her expression remained serious. He may not have had finely-tuned woman's intuition, but he could tell she wasn't joking.

"A physician? *You*…are a physician?"

Her gaze was unfaltering. He pondered momentarily, then shrugged with a slight raise of the eyebrows and a "Hm" that said 'stranger things've happened, I s'pose'. Unsure what else to say, he turned to leave. The corner of Scully's mouth twitched into a smile as she watched him go, but he stopped in the doorway.

"By the way…" He swung round and she groaned quietly, dreading anything else he could possibly say. "Halcón has changed course and so have we."

"Why would he do that?"

"Well his ship was probably badly damaged by the storm, so he's pulling into a port to have it repaired." He bit his lip as though considering saying something else, but thought better of it. Scully, however, was more astute than he gave her credit for. She caught his sleeve.

"And?"

He rolled his eyes. "And…we could do with some work as well."

She smirked, a little surprised that he admitted it. "So this ship has been damaged?"

"I didn't say that, I said we could do with a little tender loving care, thank *you*." He pulled his arm free, straightened his coat and his posture, and strutted - ever so slightly put out - away.

Scully shook her head, grinning, and turned back to the task of tending her cheek.

*

_Aboard the Adversary…_

Mulder's head lolled from side to side in his hammock. "Can we...stop the ship moving...just for a bit..."

Soledad stroked his hair with genuine sympathy, "Pobrecito. Do you want some of that medicine I gave you before?"

Mulder considered for a moment, remembering the colourless liquid that had admittedly made him feel better during his first bout of sea-sickness, but only resulted in more vomiting first.

"Uh...think I'll pass on that, thanks."

Soledad grinned. "Don't blame you." She put the back of her hand on his forehead. "Your temperature's almost back to normal now. I think you'll live."

The floorboards behind them creaked, and Yelena appeared from the musty gloom. "How's the patient?"

"He's fine." Soledad stood up and brushed her knees. "Solo tiene que descansar un poco (he just needs some rest)."

"Me alegra oírlo (glad to hear it)." Yelena approached the hammock and crouched down beside it. "Uh, I know this isn't the best time, but I really need to talk to you."

Mulder frowned. "Is it important?"

"Very."

"Alright..." he struggled into something like a sitting position. "Hit me."

Yelena looked quickly at Soledad before beginning, unsure whether she knew of this already or not, and lowered her voice cautiously. "Mulder, do you remember during the storm, I gave you a key?"

The expression on Soledad's face made it clear she hadn't already known, but Mulder was putting pieces together. "Oh that was you? I don't remember you giving it to me, but I found it in my jacket afterward. What is it?"

"It's...the key to the door. Portal. Whatever the hell it is. The key that Van Müller keeps talking about, that you apparently need to get home."

"What?" Mulder's hand closed over the pocket with the key inside. "How did you get it?"

Soledad, who had been on the point of leaving until this conversation started, swept aside the tails of her frock coat and sat back down. "I filched it from Halcón, well sort of, during the storm, and then Yelena took it to stop me getting caught with it."

"And I gave it to you because the officers were leaving you alone."

"Oh, so you took advantage of a sick man for your own ends?" Mulder cracked a smile, "Good work."

Yelena's expression brightened. "Well, now you know what it is, don't tell _anyone_ you've got it. Especially not any of the officers. Not that we really talk to them anyway."

Suddenly they heard their names being called, by a pleasantly familiar voice.

"Over here, Fernand!" Yelena called back. A moment later, Van Müller was at the end of Mulder's hammock, smiling broadly – probably the first time any of the crew had seen him happy since they'd set off from Tortuga.

"I have the best news," he gushed. "The ship suffered too much damage in the storm for us to continue straight on!"

Mulder and the girls exchanged confused glances. "How is that good news?" Asked Soledad.

"Because it means we'll need to pull into a port for repairs, and the nearest port is Oro Negro!"

Now Mulder sat bolt upright, his hand clutching the key tighter. "Oro Negro? Where the portal is?"

Van Müller nodded ecstatically. "It's a deep harbour, we can sail right up to the docks. All we'll need to do is sneak off the ship and we can get back home!"

In the captain's cabin, Halcón was sitting at a table with his favourite officers, dropping sugar lumps into a china teacup with little silver tongs.

"I have already informed my navigator that we are obliged to visit Oro Negro for repairs. We will be there in the morning." He smirked wickedly. "Sparrow will follow us there, of course."

Gillpoyo knew what Halcón was planning, but the other officers looked to each other, bemused.

"Jack Sparrow, capitán?" One asked.

Halcón continued to stir his tea. "Who else?"

"But...aren't we trying to lose him, capitán?"

Halcón laughed. "Of course not! Do you think he is still following us because I am too poor a captain to escape him?"

"Oh no capitán, that's not at all what I meant..."

Halcón shook his head. "Gillpoyo, please explain to these morons what will happen when we reach Oro Negro."

"We will be docked for several days while the ship is repaired. You can all be sure that, at some point during that time, Sparrow will attempt to rescue his precious madrileñas (Madrid girls). He thinks we stole them from him."

"Well, and he is very attached to them," added Halcón over the rim of his teacup. "This would not be revenge, otherwise. Jack Sparrow is a pirate like me, like all of us. His crew come and go; his friends sail with him, then sail off without him. If all he wanted was two more sailors he could have found them in Tortuga – the reason he comes all this way to reclaim Soledad and Yelena is because he is fond of them, God only knows why." Halcón's eyebrows raised as he had another thought. "They've probably saved his life in some escapade, maybe he wants to repay the debt?"

Those officers around the table who had met Jack laughed at the suggestion of him going out of his way to repay a debt. Or doing anything at all to repay a debt, for that matter. Evidently there was some vital reason from the past why he was so attached to those scrawny, disrespectful Castilian kids who had been causing so much trouble aboard the Adversary.

Halcón cleared his throat. "You all remember how Señor Sparrow threw me off his ship, and cheated me out of my share in the fortune they then found without me?" There were a few nods. The captain smiled, and smoothed his officer's wig. "He has never received any retribution for that betrayal. But now he will. Is that not a comforting thought?"

"Yes...capitán..." they agreed hesitantly, still ignorant of what he had in mind.

"When he tries to rescue his madrileñas, we will trap him on this ship. That pathetic little boat he's following us in can't have very many crew, so we need not worry about them hindering us. Then one of you will fetch Soledad and Yelena." His lips curled. "And I will kill them in front of him."

As the officers filed out of Halcón's cabin, Gillpoyo stopped and leant in for a quiet word.

"What do you want to do with las madrileñas until we reach Oro Negro, capitán?"

"Nothing. I see no reason to deprive them of work while we still need hands."

"And the americanos? Mulder, Benson, Bosworth, Van Müller? We still need to find out what they know about that key. From the way Van Müller is acting, I believe Oro Negro is important in some way."

Halcón considered. "Yes… We need to find out what they know." His hand wondered to the pocket where he had secured the key, after the escapade during the storm where it had nearly been lost, and drew it out. "I don't think-" he stopped short and stared. His eyes remained fixed on the key in his hand, but filled with panic and confusion. "Gillpoyo," he said, very slowly. "This is not the key."

"Cómo? (What?)" Suddenly forgetting all protocol, he snatched it from Halcón's hand. "No lo creo… (I don't believe it…) Somebody must have switched the real key with this one!"

Halcón regarded him for a moment, then realisation dawned and his expression clouded over with a fury to rival that of the storm. His voice became disturbingly quiet. "Gillpoyo, venga conmigo. (Come with me.) I know exactly who it was."

Halcón burst through out of the cabin with Gillpoyo in hot pursuit. He spied the culprit off to his left, swabbing the deck. He was upon her before she even had time to look up. He knocked the mop out of her hands and sent it clattering to the ground. Grabbing her viciously by the throat he pulled her face to within inches of his own. When he spoke, his voice was a low rumbling growl.

"Listen to me you worthless _puta_, I know you have my key, where is it?"

Soledad raised her hands to his, trying to loosen the grip on her neck.

"I don't know what you mean captain."

With a roar of frustration, Halcón threw her to the ground and brought his foot down on her chest, applying pressure and causing Soledad to struggle for every breath. She writhed and clawed at his boot, but the harder she tried to move it, the harder he pressed down. The commotion attracted the attention of some nearby crew, among them Mulder, who stepped forward and strained to understand what was happening. As he looked on in alarm, Halcón dropped down beside Soledad and pulled her up roughly by the collar, to back-hand her across the face and let her fall back onto the hard deck.

"Dónde está la clave? (Where is the key?) I _know_ you have it!"

Soledad was coughing and rolling onto her side, and somehow still protesting, in indecipherable Spanish. Gillpoyo stepped forward to join his captain; when he dealt her a kick to the side of head, Mulder snapped.

"Stop!" he blurted, rushing forward. And to the surprise of all those watching, they did stop. There were several lengthy and tense moments of silence. Mulder swallowed.

"She doesn't have it."

Rising slowly to his feet, Halcón regarded Mulder for a second before stepping forward.

"And how would you know this, _chico_?"

Mulder paused, floundering for a response. In the background, Soledad was struggling to sit up; Gillpoyo tried to push her back down, but she brushed him off forcefully.

"Jódete, gilipollas."

Meanwhile Mulder had found his voice.

"Because I have it."

Halcón was on him in an instant.

"Cómo?"

"I have the key," Mulder repeated. "I'm the one who stole it."

The panic was evident on Soledad's face.

"Qué haces? (What are you doing?)" she said, stumbling upright, forgetting that Mulder couldn't understand her Spanish.

Yelena, who had been listening intently from somewhere at the back of the crowd, chose this moment to push her way through and come to Mulder's aid. She grabbed his arm.

"What the hell are you doing?" she hissed through gritted teeth. He simply shrugged her off.

"I stole it from you during the storm."

"No he didn't," Yelena interrupted. "He was too busy being sick to do anything." Mulder glared at her as Soledad broke forward.

"Yes, it was me and Yelena. He had nothing to do with it."

But Mulder was having none of it. "It _was_ me, Captain. They're just saying that to protect me."

"No," Yelena insisted, "he's the one doing the protecting, it was us all along and you know it!"

"No it wasn't!"

"Yes it was!"

"No it wasn't!"

Soledad leant on one hip, away from Mulder and Yelena, and rolled her eyes with exasperation.

Halcón clearly felt the same way about the exchange he was witnessing.

"Basta ya! Enough! As far as I'm concerned, you're all as guilty as each other! Throw them in the brig!"

Mulder tried a frantic, last ditch attempt at exonerating Soledad and Yelena. He pulled the key from his pants pocket.

"Look it's here! I have it!"

Halcón shot him a look of pure disdain.

"Oh, how heroic," he replied sarcastically, and snatched the key out of his hand.

The sudden emptiness in Mulder's hand was compensated for by Gillpoyo's fist, pummelling his stomach. He doubled over with a groan as all the air was forced from his lungs, but was quickly wrenched upright, only to be dealt another blow by Gillpoyo. Gritting his teeth, Mulder stood once more, but before he could be struck again, landed a swift, hard right hook to Gillpoyo's face, sending him sprawling backwards. He shot a triumphant look toward Soledad and Yelena, who were both being restrained by other members of the crew, but still managed to grin at him in order to convey their approval of his actions. His success was short lived however, as Halcón brought a wooden post down on the back of his head, knocking him unconscious.

"Take them away," Halcón commanded with a sweep of his hand, and two men grabbed an arm each and dragged Mulder in the direction of the brig, followed by a struggling Soledad and Yelena.


	11. Chapter 11

_Aboard the Endurance…_

Night had fallen over the ship, and Scully was alone in the cabin lying on her hammock, the only light coming from a candle on the table a few feet from her position. She sighed deeply, the sound of the waves lapping at the side of the ship failing, for the first time, to ease her nerves or help her sleep. She allowed her hand to slip from beside her head and grasp the sleeve of Mulder's jacket, which she still had and was now using as a makeshift blanket. She fingered the buttons at the cuff and sighed again, closing her eyes briefly. It still smelled of him. Scully then rolled to one side and tipped herself out of the hammock, landing gracefully on the floor. She looked at the jacket once more, before replacing it in the hammock and heading out of the cabin in search of Jack.

*

It didn't take her very long to find him. Jack was, as usual, standing at the wheel, one hand on it, the other bringing a bottle of rum to his lips. Scully narrowed her eyes and approached him, snatching the bottle from his hand. Jack's faraway expression suddenly snapped into focus, and he fixed her with indignant eyes.

"If you wanted some, love, all you had to do was ask."

She simply glared back at him. "Maybe if you drank less of this stuff you would've been able to come up with a way to save Mulder by now!"

"For your information, a little tot of rum every now and again helps me think." He made a lunge for the bottle but Scully stepped back and raised her arm above her head, keeping it out of his reach.

"A 'little tot'?" she snorted. "I doubt anybody would class four bottles a night as a little tot!"

Gibbs, who once again was watching their exchange, bit back a chuckle. This one really had Jack pegged.

"Anyway," Jack replied, stepping closer to take another shot at getting the bottle back, "I fail to see how my consumption of rum has anything to do with your fair self."

Scully's eyebrows shot up.

"It has to do with 'my fair self', as you put it, because your extraordinarily high alcohol consumption makes you forget exactly why I'm on this ship with you." Off his blank look, she rolled her eyes and continued, "To get my partner back."

Gibbs covered a smirk with his hand as a look of realization finally dawned on Jack's face.

"Ah yes, that Mulder fellow. Wonder how he's getting on, being part of Halcón's crew…"

"Back to the point *captain*," Scully interjected, stressing the last word. "How exactly are we going to rescue him, not to mention the two members of your crew that Halcón also stole…"

"Pressganged," Gibbs corrected, causing her to direct her glare at him for a second.

"Whatever. The point is, how do we get them back?"

Jack seemed to ponder this conundrum seriously for a few moments before coming to a conclusion.

"I think… I have absolutely no idea." He then launched himself at Scully, hoping to knock her off balance and retrieve his rum. However, she had pre-empted him, and moved even further back so she was leaning against the side of the ship.

"Dammit woman!" Jack yelled. "Return my rum this instant or I'll throw you in the brig!"

"What brig?! This ship is so small it doesn't even have a proper sized cabin!" she shouted back, which silenced him for minute. "Now, either you help me figure out what to do, or I'll… I'll throw the bottle overboard."

He gasped. "You wouldn't!"

Scully leaned further over the side and allowed her hand to slip higher up the neck. "Do you really want to test me?"

Gibbs, sensing that the situation was about to go irretrievably down hill, chose that moment to step forward and intervene properly.

"We could always storm the ship." Both heads turned in his direction, so he continued. "If we get into port under cover of night, they'll never see us. We could dock farther up, then sneak round and board them when they least expect it."

"I like it. It could work," Scully responded, while Jack merely rolled his eyes.

"There seems to be just one fatal flaw in your little plan Mr Gibbs - storming the ship is exactly what my dear old friend Halcón would expect me to do."

Scully sighed heavily. Drunken pirates trying to outsmart each other was never going to end well. "So how are you going to get your crew back?" Scully retorted. "What's your brilliant plan?"

Jack studied her with visible concentration, taking a slow breath. "Still working on that."

Scully struggled to hide her exasperation, then drew her arm back into the boat and took a long swallow of rum in an effort to temper it, before tossing the bottle over the side, to Jack's absolute horror. When she noticed she simply shrugged.

"It was empty."

It was the final straw for Gibbs. He started to laugh. Jack tried to shut him up by shooting daggers at him, but it only made it worse, the laughter gradually got louder and harder until he could barely breathe.

Scully couldn't help but grin as she watched Jack getting more and more annoyed, which only served to make Gibbs laugh even harder. He was bent double, clutching his sides as tears streamed down his cheeks, which had turned bright red as a result of the exertion.

After a few minutes his giggles began to subside until he was finally able to speak.

"S…sorry cap'n, bu…but … your face was priceless!" Jack just glared. Scully let out a soft chuckle before straightening her expression and trying to get them back on track.

"Ok, as Gibbs said before…," she paused, not wanting to continue, lest she set him off again. "I think we should seriously consider storming the ship. If we go in quick, when they won't be expecting it and we can use the element of surprise to our advantage."

"Far be it for me to agree with a woman cap'n, but she does make a good argument," Gibbs continued, ignoring the icy stare he got from Scully for his opening remark. This alone prompted her to take over again.

"I know there's only three of us, but once we get on board I know Mulder will help, and I'm sure the two members of your crew will help as well. And who knows, maybe if all you've said about him is true, some of Halcón's men will use to opportunity to mutiny against him and side with us."

"It's a fair point cap'n. We know what he's like. I'm sure some of those men would like nothing more than to settle a score with him, pay him back for the mistreatment."

Scully was about to continue hers and Gibbs' tag team effort in persuading Jack, but as she opened her mouth to speak he raised his hand, effectively silencing her. Wiping his forehead with the back of his arm, he turned and headed for the wheel.

"All this talking… I need a drink." He grabbed a well placed bottle of rum, pulled the cork out with his teeth and drained half the contents with one swallow.

It was all Scully could do to stop herself from marching over to him and wringing his neck.

Gibbs just shrugged.

"Are all hands present?" Halcón enquired quietly of the officer beside him.

The officer nodded. "Sí, señor."

Taking this as his cue, Halcón stepped forward to the railing from where he could survey the deck. On it stood the entire crew – minus Soledad and Yelena, who were still safely locked in the brig – facing the front. More precisely, they were facing the wooden grille which had been placed there, and to which Mulder had been tied. His fellow Americans had been placed right at the front of the crowd, Halcón feeling it was most important for them to witness the punishment for insubordination. The other hands had seen this, if not been the one lashed to the grille, a hundred times already. Van Müller was turning white just at the thought of what was about to happen.

"This man," Halcón addressed his crew, "has committed crimes against me as Captain, against my officers, and against the crew of this ship. During a fight on deck, which is forbidden under any circumstances, he struck a superior officer." He paused for effect. There was a scroll in his hands, a code which gave guidelines on suitable punishments for such offenses, but he was making no move to refer to it. "We will be docked here in Oro Negro for several days while the ship is repaired after the storm, and as you go about your duties on board and in the town, you will think about this example and let it serve as a lesson to you all."

The standard procedure at this point was for the captain to announce how many lashes the criminal was to receive, and for another officer or crewmember on the lower deck to deal them out. But Halcón had his own ideas about how to take his anger out on Mulder. He thrust the scroll into Karkabayev's hands, and began a gracious, controlled walk down the stairs. The assembled crew drew back to let him pass as he walked right up to the grille. Mulder, his face pressed sideways against the wood, watched him approach and was determined not to let the fear show in his eyes. When Halcón regarded him, he set his jaw and glared defiantly.

Halcón almost shrugged, clearly unaffected – or used to it – and reached to the floor behind the grille. A wooden post had been lying there, and everyone had assumed it went with the wooden contraption somehow, but now it became clear that someone had left it there for a purpose. A purpose so horrible that Van Müller had to turn away when he realised.

Benson and Stewart looked to each other, alarmed, and whispered.

"He is not going to..."

"He'll break Mulder's back with that thing!"

Then, "I hope you are all watching attentively," came Halcón's Hispanic drawl. He smiled repulsively at Mulder, before assuming a stance and raising the post for the first strike.

Mulder tensed and closed his eyes, bracing himself for the first blow to connect with his back. But it never came. Instead there was an almost-shriek from Halcón, followed by the sound of the wooden post hitting the floor. Tentatively Mulder opened his eyes, and they fell upon the post lying inches away from him on the deck. There was something wound round it, something black and rope-like. Slowly, he followed the trail across and up the side of the ship, and his expression changed to one of confusion as he came to rest on a pair of small feet, clad in black boots standing on the edge of the ship. His gaze rose higher, taking in where the boots ended mid-thigh and where black pants started. A belt was fastened round the waist above, a long sword hanging from it. A waistcoat over a white shirt fitted the figure snugly. It wasn't until his attention was drawn higher that he realized the person was a woman. His eyebrows lifted in surprise, taking in the hand holding what he now determined to be a black whip. Mulder's surprise gave way to shock - and some other emotion he couldn't quite pinpoint - as he reached the woman's head, which although the face was devoid of make-up, and the hair slightly curlier, was unmistakably Scully's.

Before Mulder could quite comprehend the situation, or voice any queries, all hell broke loose.

After Halcón recovered from the initial shock, not just of having his public flogging thwarted, but by a _woman_ no less, he began shouting commands to his men, who immediately sprang into action and advanced on Scully. Much to Mulder's surprise, she didn't seem at all phased by the twenty burly men heading towards her, armed with swords, daggers and even planks of wood. Instead she threw a fleeting glance over her shoulder, raised her arm and flicked the whip up then quickly back down, giving off a deafening crack as it made contact with the deck and stopped the men in their tracks. A short stocky man, who strangely reminded Mulder of Frohike, launched himself over the side of the ship just off to Scully's left, and stood by her feet with his sword drawn, obviously ready for a fight.

Halcón, infuriated by the lack of action on the part of his men, decided to intervene. "Don't just stand there, kill them!" The biggest man out of the bunch - the boson according to what Yelena had told Mulder earlier - stepped forward, raising his sword. He grinned salaciously at Scully, something which made Mulder's blood boil.

"Oh I'm going to _really_ enjoy this sweetheart," the boson began, moving closer. "You need to learn it's not safe for a girly girl to be playing at pirate." Scully bristled imperceptibly to everyone except Mulder, just stared back at the boson, saying nothing. But as the man took another step, he quickly learned it was a big mistake. In one smooth, swift movement, she raised her leg, leant back slightly and kicked out, her foot catching him square and hard in the chest and knocking him backwards into the other men, taking a couple of them out in the process. Those men in turn knocked over others, creating a domino effect of men tumbling to the deck. Scully then reached above her head, grabbed hold of the rigging and used it to propel herself forward, landing gracefully on the ground, despite the ridiculously high heels on her boots, and drawing her sword as she did.

"Anyone else want to call me _girly girl_?" Her statement was met with deathly silence from the men she'd just knocked flat on their asses.

Suddenly, from somewhere behind Mulder, there was a loud roar. Others who had been witnessing the spectacle were flung aside as the men from the case, led by Van Müller, stormed through, armed to the teeth with daggers, pistols and clubs. They surged on the fallen men, assaulting them with their fists, feet and weapons. This seemed to prompt the rest of Halcón's crew into action, and, surprisingly, not all of them were acting against the Americans and Van Müller. Scully and the Frohike look-alike, meanwhile, had waded into the fray. One of the Americans ran to Mulder and cut him down from the grille before dashing off again, but Mulder was temporarily dumbstruck and hardly registered his freedom.

He couldn't help but stare as he watched Scully fight, manoeuvring the sword like an expert and matching every blow that was aimed at her. He watched in awe as she took down a man twice her size with a well aimed jab to the ribs. As he lay bleeding, she bent at the waist and scooped up his sword. She turned towards Mulder, but it didn't register that she was actually talking to him until he heard her shout his name above the din.

"Mulder!" Once she had his attention, she threw the sword to him, which he caught, albeit clumsily. "Make yourself useful for God's sake!" Under her breath she muttered "Lazy bastard," before she was diverted by another sword-wielding crew member flying at her.

Now he was once again armed, Mulder himself joined the fray, going after anyone and anything he could hit with the sword. Having never handled one before, it was quite a hilarious thing to watch, and Scully would've laughed after she'd dispatched her assailant, had the huge bulk of the boson not stepped into her line of view.

He leered at her. "Think you can humiliate me like that in front of the men and get away with it missy? I'll make you wish you were never born!" With that he swung his massive arm and backhanded Scully viciously across the face. The blow sent her sprawling across the deck, losing her grip on her sword in the process. Her head swimming, she struggled to stand, but the boson was too quick. He grabbed her by the throat and wrenched her off the floor, her legs flailing in mid-air. She kicked out and clawed at his hand in an attempt to get him to release his vice-like grip, which was rapidly cutting of her oxygen supply. Then she remembered. She still had her gun. Reaching behind her and under the waistcoat, Scully released the weapon from its holster and brought it round in front of her, aimed directly at the boson's heart. She clicked the safety off and squeezed the trigger in one smooth motion. The gun fired with a loud bang, and she felt the boson's hand clench impossibly tighter round her throat at the moment of impact. A split second later, he released his hold on her, and she crashed to the ground as he crumbled to his knees, then fell face first to the deck.

Mulder, having witnessed the events from near the side of the ship, was at Scully's side in an instant. She coughed and spluttered, struggling to get her breath. He slipped one arm underneath her back, propping her up slightly to enable her to breathe a little easier. Bruises were already starting to form a reddish ring around her neck. He touched them lightly with his fingers, drawing her attention to his face.

"You ok there partner?"

She smiled slightly. "Not too bad. Is he dead?"

Mulder threw a fleeting glance over his shoulder at the boson's still body before turning back and grinning. "Hell yea. Nice shot by the way." Slowly he stood, wrapping his arms around Scully's waist and helping her to her feet. When he was certain she was steady on them again, he released his hold on her, smoothing some hair out of her face as he did so.

"That was some pretty impressive swordsmanship back there."

"Thanks. Jack gave me lessons." Before Mulder could query her statement her gaze shifted over his shoulder. Without warning she shoved him out of the way and fired at another crew member who'd been about to stab Mulder in the back with a dagger. He dropped down dead with a dull thud. From his spot on the floor, a position Mulder had become very used to over the course of this case, he glanced up at her.

"That's like what? The fifth time you've saved my ass today?" Scully simply grinned. "Actually it's only the third, but who's counting?" And with that she sprinted across the deck to help Gibbs, who was being rapidly outnumbered by Halcón's men, snatching up her sword as she did. Mulder shook his head and hauled himself to his feet, before wading back into the battle.

"Van Müller!" Benson was pushing his way through the confusion which now reigned where the formal order of a public flogging had been only moments ago. A voice answered him from somewhere to the right. He pricked up his ears and called out again.

"Van Müller? Fernand?"

"Yes, I'm here!" They managed to reach each other and stood close together conspiratorially.

"What do we do now?" Asked Benson, anxiously. "There's only so much mutinous feeling you can spread and I just don't think anyone's got it. Look at them all, they're just obeying the officers like they're supposed to!"

"Well we hadn't planned to mutiny yet, had we? We've hardly had a chance to do anything...We're supposed to wait for the go-ahead from Soledad and Yelena but with them still in the brig, and all this chaos...If only we'd _known _someone would try to rescue Mulder, we could have planned something. We could try and do it now, I suppose. What do you think?"

Benson cast a series of distressed glances about him. Many of the crew had scattered, but even so Mulder and that woman who had come to rescue him – Scully, was that her name? - were putting up a pretty damn good fight, even if they were being assisted by a strange man who Benson didn't recognise. He had boarded with Scully, but it didn't really matter who he was so long as he was willing to fight against Halcón's men. Was there any chance at all that calling a mutiny against Halcón now would actually work, with the girls locked away and only two new arrivals to help? He doubted it.

Meanwhile above them a blurred shape clinging clumsily to a rope swooped in. It let go mid-swing and dropped unceremoniously to the deck near the mast and behind the troop of men attempting to surround Scully. Now that the figure had stopped moving, Mulder could see it was the man from the bar in Tortuga, Jack Sparrow. And to say Halcón wasn't pleased to see him was the understatement of the century. His knuckles grew white where he clasped the hand-rail overlooking the lower deck, his mouth curled into a furious snarl.

Jack sauntered up the stairs to the raised deck, towards his long-standing enemy. "Good day, you festering ol' codpiece."

Halcón responded by drawing himself up taller, with the controlled confidence that came with secret knowledge, but rage was seething in his eyes. "Finally gracing us with your presence, señor?"

"So it would seem. Did you miss me?"

Halcón smiled a greasy smile. "Very much." Then over his shoulder he hissed, "Gillpoyo, Karkabayev!" and nodded in the direction of the brig. The officers nodded and hastened away, pushing their way fiercely through the mêlée. Unaware of what was being instructed, Jack continued casually towards Halcón.

"So, 'ere we are again, just like the good old days, eh?"

One of Halcón's pirates, apparently unaware of or ignoring the dialogue between the two captains, threw himself at Jack with a cry. Without even looking, Jack snapped up an elbow and caught him smack in the middle of the face; the pirate thudded to the deck. Halcón glanced at the exchange out of the corner of one eye, brow raised, and frowned.

"Boarders to be captured, not killed!" He shouted above the noise of the fight, which was continuing on the lower deck. Then quietly, to Jack, "I have a wonderful surprise for you."

"Oh? And what might that be?"

The now familiar sound of feet clattering down the stairs greeted Soledad and Yelena through the musty darkness of the ship's prison. They had been hearing the distinctive sounds of fighting from above, and were sure it must be the mutiny Benson and Van Müller had promised – now whoever was coming must have been sent to break them out!

But when the approaching figures became distinguishable, both their hearts sank. It was Gillpoyo and Karkabayev, looking livid. Instinctively they shrank back away from the bars, but there was to be no escaping.

"Qué pasa? (What's happening?)" Ventured Yelena, just in case they were to be allowed an explanation.

"I'm finally going to be rid of you, _putas_," Gillpoyo spat back.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're about to find out."

Mulder and Scully were back to back, weapons drawn but completely surrounded. Gibbs had been separated from them, and was locked further down the deck in an identical standstill. Jack had both his pistols aimed, but since there were at least a dozen trained on him he could see there was no use firing. Van Müller and the Americans were dotted throughout the crew, glancing uneasily at each other.

"So, here we are at last." Observed Halcón. "I am going to kill you, Jack Sparrow, but first there is a sweeter revenge I need to have. You have insulted me by throwing me out of your crew, and in so doing cheated me out of my fair share in a treasure trove the like of which had never been seen before. You tried to rob me of my pride _and _my prize, and you have not even regretted it."

"Can't say I have."

One corner of Halcón's lips curled to match his moustache. "You will regret it now."

And from below came Gillpoyo and Karkabayev, leading Soledad and Yelena before them, bound, gagged and fiercely resisting. Other officers stepped forward to help as they were dragged across the deck and up the stairs onto the raised rear, where Halcón and a confused Jack were waiting. Only the highest-ranking officers had been informed of Halcón's murderous intentions, but now members of the crew began to cotton on and realise what was about to happen. No-one dared protest; instead the silence intensified tenfold.

Struggling as they were, Soledad and Yelena's eyes lit up at the sight of Jack, apparently undaunted by his predicament. For his part, Jack was betraying nothing of his emotions as usual, but those watching closely noticed the flicker in his face as he set eyes on them. Just a flicker, but it gave him away.

"I'm sure you remember these two?" Asked Halcón, standing next to Yelena so that she tried to shuffle in the other direction.

"...I've met 'em," was Jack's only response. Soledad smiled fleetingly. Jack's bluffing could be _so _abysmal sometimes.

"Enough games, Señor Sparrow. I know you have come all this way to try some pathetic attempt at 'rescuing' these _children._" The instant fury at being called 'children' seemed to pass Halcón by unnoticed.

"What? You think I'm here for _them_?" Answered Jack, the sincerity – or otherwise - of his expression now completely impenetrable.

Halcón laughed, but his voice was thin with impatience, and nervousness. "I said enough games. There's no point trying to bluff in front of me. If you haven't come for the madrileñas, then what _have _you come for? To try and storm the ship and steal it from me, perhaps?" The crew around him roared with laughter.

"_Senyorr,_" pronounced Jack with excessive emphasis, "have you already forgotten the charming gentleman you were about to flog senseless only a moment ago?"

"What about him?"

"I have had with me, the entire duration of this voyage, a quite delightful young lady who has been egging me on somewhat..." All eyes suddenly turned to Scully. "And she has, as the more astute among you may have noticed, a particular attachment to the aforementioned charming gentleman."

"So you've come for that whelp because your wench told you to? Jack, do you really take your orders from women these days? What's that phrase you have in English – 'how are the mighty fallen'."

"Look at that _face_, Rodrigo," Jack pursued, despite clearly incensing Halcón with the first-naming. "Could you say no to that face if it asked you to attack an old enemy?"

Of all the eyes fixed on Scully, a startling proportion suddenly become leerier than before. She met them with an iron stare that said 'Don't even think about it. It's never gonna happen while I'm alive and armed.'

"I see," Halcón responded. "So you wanted to attack me just because you don't like me, and she wanted her lover-boy back, is that it?"

Both Mulder and Scully opened their mouths to protest at the term 'lover-boy', but realised that saying anything at all without knowing what the hell Jack was up to would probably make things worse. They shut their mouths again grudgingly.

"Yep," smiled Jack. "You have hit the nail on the head, got straight to the bottom of the matter, found where the dog is buried. Those are _precisely _the reasons why my dear Miss Scully and I are aboard this here fine vessel."

"Right. No attachment to our madrileñas?"

"None whatsoever."

"Good. Then you won't mind me killing them."

Before she'd even seen Halcón move, Soledad felt the cold barrel of a pistol pressed into her temple. It was too late to duck. She stood perfectly still and stared at him from behind the trigger. Those officers attempting to restrain Yelena, on the other hand, were suddenly attacked with an explosion of anger they had forgotten was possible to come from one person.

"For God's sake, hold that girl back," Halcón ordered, his voice low and cold. "You cut your bluff too fine, Jack. I'm no fool, I know why you're here. And now you will watch this." His fingers slid around the trigger.

From the other side of the ship, on a different level of deck, Van Müller's face contorted as the gravity of the situation suddenly hit him. This was the moment, now or never. Louder than he had ever shouted before he opened his mouth wide and cried out,

"MUUUTINYYYY!!!"

And then all Hell broke loose.


	12. Chapter 12

We are such terrible, terrible people for forgetting about this story for SO. LONG. If you have any love for us left in your hearts, then please review this chapter, and we will continue to love you forever like what we said we would if you reviewed 3

The Caribbean air was filled with smoke and gunpowder as shots were fired in all directions aboard the _Adversary_, the guns flashing. Nothing could be heard over the shouts and cries and clang of swords on each other.

Halcón was distracted from his task of shooting Soledad by a wave of angry mutineers swarming onto the upper deck, their rage at his readiness to shoot a woman in cold blood sparking off the anger that had been building in them ever since they were forced onto the ship. The men holding Soledad and Yelena had to let go to defend themselves, and the girls slipped away as fast as lightning. They somehow managed to find Mulder and Scully on the main deck, who were fighting back-to-back, Mulder considerably less skilful with a blade but no less enthusiastic.

"What now?" Yelena yelled. Benson appeared out of the crowd.

"To the portal!"

The party of escapees assembled itself as they clambered onto the gangplank and scurried down to the pier. Scully suddenly stopped.

"Wait – where's Jack?" He was, of course, still on the ship, by the looks of it trying to get to Halcón but faced with a thick crowd of people who also wanted a piece of the captain. For all his faults, Scully had to admit that Halcón was holding his own in battle. It helped that he had a loyal surrounding of followers, naturally.

"I'm going back for him," she declared.

"What? Are you crazy?" Mulder exclaimed.

"He'll be killed if he stays!" Scully shouted over her shoulder, running back up the gangplank and into the foray. She pushed her way through the knot of people, trying to avoid getting in between two crew locked in combat, and seized Jack by the arm. He was so shocked that he allowed himself to be dragged a few steps before he stopped and resisted.

"What are you doing woman?"

"Saving your life!"

"No woman is saving my life, thank you darlin'," he retorted.

"Please Jack – Halcón will follow us and then you can fight him on your own, man to man. Nobody will be able to say they helped you, it'll be all the more glory for you."

At this, Jack started to falter. She had a point. "Look, just trust me, I'll prove I'm right," insisted Scully. Suddenly Jack ducked, as a bullet flew through the air where his head had just been; he had to catch his hat to stop it flying off.

"Alright, fine then! Vamos!"

He joined the party as they made a break for the town, luckily unfollowed by the crew who were too busy fighting the battle they had been waiting months, some of them years, to fight. The ground was muddy after recent rainfall, and they grappled to move uphill and hide somewhere among the bungalow houses and shops.

When they finally found a quiet back corner, behind a cluster of buildings and near the edge of the rainforest, they stopped for breath.

"Did they follow us?" Asked van Müller, panting furiously.

"No," answered Yelena.

"You," said Jack, pointing accusingly at Scully, "said you were going to convince me this was a good idea. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't go straight back to that ship and kill the bastard."

Scully sighed. She hadn't really got a very good excuse, which meant there was only one card left to play.

"Come over here, let me explain." She took Jack by the elbow and led him off round a corner, for some reason away from the others.

"What is she doing?" Asked Soledad, confused.

"I ask myself that question daily," sighed Mulder.

"So where is this famous portal?" Benson cut in. He and the other Americans were keener than ever to get home, after barely escaping the battle on the ship with their lives.

"Somewhere in this forest," replied Van Müller. "Though I'm not sure what it looks like."

"I would've thought a rip in space and time would be fairly easy to spot," said Yelena, a sardonic eyebrow raised.

"We'll find it," said Mulder. "Trust me, I do this kind of thing all the time."

There was a pause, in which those who needed to got their breath back, and the others took good stock of their surroundings.

Then Jack emerged from behind the building, straightening his collar.

"Do you know what, gentlemen, I think it would be a good idea if I stayed with you. Far too dangerous to go back to that ship."

Soledad and Yelena looked at each other, surprised and intrigued. Jack, staying away from a battle with his arch-nemesis? No, there was something not right here. Then the explanation emerged, in the form of Scully, buttoning up her blouse.

Mulder's eyes fell out of his head.

"_Scully?_"

She cleared her throat. "I think Jack will be safe now."

"Oh, I beg to differ," came a deep voice.

"Halcón!" Several of them shouted at once. He headed straight for Jack, and Scully grabbed him as they fled into the forest.

A path led uphill, and through the trees something was shimmering in the hazy afternoon light. Nobody needed to say anything: it was obvious what they were looking at. Mulder rushed ahead and flung himself at it – but to no avail. It seemed to throw him backwards.

"Dammit! Halcón has the key!"

"Yeah, because you gave it to him, you idiot," retorted Benson angrily. They all turned to Halcón. But while they had been focusing on getting through the portal, Jack and Halcón had settled straight into their business with each other. Swords drawn and clanging, they were locked in combat.

Scully drew her sword and was about to engage when Yelena stopped her.

"No, señora, this is not a battle. It's a duel. You cannot intervene."

"But Jack might be killed!"

"Better that than kill his honour."

"But...it..." Scully was exasperated. "Bloody pirates!"

She couldn't bear to just stand back and watch. Despite their frequent arguments, she had become really quite attached to Jack. He was dancing back and forth, leaves spraying up around his feet, striking and parrying at lightning speed like she had never seen from him before. The other pirates were watching with bated breath, Soledad covering her mouth with one hand.

The Americans and Mulder were still at the portal, trying to find a way to break through it, but without success. Nothing was working out the way it was supposed to: they had rescued Mulder and the girls, but now Jack was risking his life in a duel to the death and they couldn't get home. Scully put her hands to her head in despair.

Then, totally oblivious of their surroundings, Jack and Halcón swerved towards the portal. The Americans jumped out of the way as they approached, standing well back from the fight. Halcón was on the defensive, being pushed further and further back towards the portal. Any second now, he would hit it, and be stuck. Or so the onlookers thought.

They had temporarily forgotten that he had the key about his person. When Jack finally forced him, blocking an onslaught of blows, against the portal, he lost his balance, and with an astonished expression on his face, fell backwards through it and disappeared.

"Woah!" Mulder ran towards it. Jack, who had been broken out of the fighting trance, stood dumbstruck. Mulder put out his hand towards the quivering light, and found that it went straight through. "Quick, everyone – get through while it's open!"

He pushed the three Americans through, then grabbed Scully by the hand and yanked her through behind him. She turned back, and had just long enough to look at Jack as though she wanted to say something, before she too vanished. No sooner was she gone than the quivering began to die down, and within less than a minute, the air was perfectly still. Gibbs walked up to it and tentatively held out a hand. Nothing happened. It was just air.

He, Jack, Soledad and Yelena stood perfectly still for a good few minutes. They were stunned by what they had just witnessed. So many people had just disappeared in a matter of seconds, including their oldest enemy and their newest friends.

Gibbs broke the silence by letting out a long puff of air. Then he reached for a hip-flask hanging from his sash belt.

"Rum, anyone?"

THE END...?


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